


The Sum of Our Choices: The House of Hades

by TheTimeTraveler24



Series: The Sum of Our Choices [8]
Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alive Bianca di Angelo, Awesome Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, BAMF Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson), BAMF Percy Jackson, Book 4: The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus), Cupid is the worst, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Gen, Hazel Levesque is a Good Sibling, Hurt, Jason Grace is a Good Friend, M/M, Nico di Angelo & Jason Grace Friendship, Nico di Angelo is a Good Friend, One-Sided Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Piper McLean is a Good Friend, Protective Bianca Di Angelo, Protective Will Solace, Tartarus (Percy Jackson) - Freeform, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 83
Words: 139,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimeTraveler24/pseuds/TheTimeTraveler24
Summary: Maybe it's not always about trying to fix something broken. Maybe it's about starting over and creating something better.HAZEL has a job to do. When they reach the House of Hades, it's going to be up to her to defeat the sorceress waiting for them.PERCY and  ANNABETH are stuck in Tartarus. Honestly, this was all easier in theory.LEO knows if it's mechanical, it can be fixed. But the one really important problem isn't mechanical at all. And it can only be fixed with a promise.FRANK knows he should be stepping up. But he doesn't know if he can be the leader he needs to be.JASON needs to choose his path. And maybe once he finds it, he can be happy.NICO remembers every event that happened on this voyage. The hard part is knowing what to change and how to change it.PIPER wants to be more than the pretty face. She wants to prove her worth.The Quest of Seven continues on to Epirus. The team's dynamic has been off ever since Percy and Annabeth fell, and Nico's news isn't really helping matters. Meanwhile in Tartarus, Percy and Annabeth are carefully picking their way towards the Doors of Death, hoping that once all is said and done, they can still find a way to escape.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Jason Grace, Annabeth Chase & Leo Valdez, Annabeth Chase & Nico di Angelo, Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson) & Magnus Chase & Alex Fierro & Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Bianca di Angelo & Nico di Angelo, Bianca di Angelo & Will Solace, Bob | Iapetus & Annabeth Chase, Bob | Iapetus & Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson, Bob | Iapetus & Nico di Angelo, Bob | Iapetus & Percy Jackson, Calypso & Leo Valdez, Calypso/Leo Valdez, Damasen & Annabeth Chase, Damasen & Bob | Iapetus, Damasen & Percy Jackson, Ethan Nakamura & Allegra Nakamura (O.C.), Ethan Nakamura & Allegra Nakamura (O.C.) & Bianca di Angelo, Gleeson Hedge & Everyone, Hazel Levesque & Frank Zhang, Hazel Levesque & Leo Valdez, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Jason Grace & Percy Jackson, Jason Grace & Piper McLean, Jason Grace & Piper McLean & Leo Valdez, Leo Valdez & Frank Zhang, Magnus Chase & Alex Fierro, Magnus Chase/Alex Fierro, Nico di Angelo & Jason Grace, Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Percy Jackson & Hazel Levesque & Frank Zhang
Series: The Sum of Our Choices [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781341
Comments: 833
Kudos: 252





	1. My Dad Sends Me A Horse (Hazel I)

DURING THE THIRD ATTACK, Hazel almost ate a boulder. She was peering into the fog, wondering how it could be so difficult to fly across one stupid mountain range, when the ship’s alarm bells sounded.

“Hard to port!” Nico yelled from the foremast of the flying ship.

Back at the helm, Leo yanked the wheel. The _Argo II_ veered left, its aerial oars slashing through the clouds like rows of knives.

Hazel made the mistake of looking over the rail. A dark spherical shape hurtled towards her. She thought, _Why is the moon coming at us?_ Then she yelped and hit the deck. The huge rock passed so close overhead it blew her hair out of her face.

_CRACK!_

The foremast collapsed—sail, spars and Nico all crashing to the deck. The boulder, roughly the size of a pickup truck, tumbled off into the fog like it had important business elsewhere.

“Nico!” Hazel scrambled over to him as Leo brought the ship level.

“I’m fine,” Nico muttered, kicking folds of canvas off his legs.

She helped him up, and they stumbled to the bow. Hazel peeked over more carefully this time. The clouds parted just long enough to reveal the top of the mountain below them: a spearhead of black rock jutting from mossy green slopes. Standing at the summit was a mountain god–one of the _numina montanum,_ Jason had called them. Or _ourae,_ in Greek. Whatever you called them, they were nasty.

Like the others they had faced, this one wore a simple white tunic over skin as rough and dark as basalt. He was about twenty feet tall and extremely muscular, with a flowing white beard, scraggly hair and a wild look in his eyes, like a crazy hermit. He bellowed something Hazel didn’t understand, but it obviously wasn’t welcoming. With his bare hands, he prised another chunk of rock from his mountain and began shaping it into a ball.

The scene disappeared in the fog, but when the mountain god bellowed again other _numina_ answered in the distance, their voices echoing through the valleys.

“Stupid rock gods!” Leo yelled from the helm. “That’s the third time I’ve had to replace that mast! You think they grow on trees?”

Nico frowned. “Masts _are_ from trees.”

“That’s not the point!” Leo snatched up one of his controls, rigged from a Nintendo Wii stick, and spun it in a circle. A few feet away, a trapdoor opened in the deck. A Celestial bronze canon rose.

Hazel just had time to cover her ears before it discharged into the sky, spraying a dozen metal spheres that trailed green fire. The spheres grew spikes in midair, like helicopter blades, and hurtled away into the fog.

A moment later, a series of explosions crackled across the mountains, followed by the outraged roars of mountain gods.

“Ha!” Leo yelled.

Unfortunately, Hazel guessed, judging from their last two encounters, Leo’s newest weapon had only annoyed the _numina_.

Another boulder whistled through the air off to their starboard side.

Nico yelled, “Get us out of here!”

Leo muttered some unflattering comments about _numina,_ but he turned the wheel. The engines hummed. Magical rigging lashed itself tight, and the ship tacked to port. The _Argo II_ picked up speed, retreating north-west, as they’d been doing for the past two days.

Hazel didn’t relax until they were out of the mountains. The fog cleared. Below them, morning sunlight illuminated the Italian countryside—rolling green hills and golden fields not too different from those in northern California. Hazel could almost imagine she was sailing home to Camp Jupiter.

The thought weighed on her chest. Camp Jupiter had only been her home for nine months, since Nico had brought her back from the Underworld. But she missed it more than her birthplace of New Orleans, and definitely more than Alaska, where she’d died back in 1942.

She missed her bunk in the Fifth Cohort barracks. She missed dinners in the mess hall, with wind spirits whisking platters through the air and legionnaires joking about the war games. She wanted to wander the streets of New Rome, holding hands with Frank Zhang. She wanted to experience just being a regular girl for once, with an actual sweet, caring boyfriend.

Most of all, she wanted to feel safe. She was tired of being scared and worried all the time.

She stood on the quarterdeck as Nico picked mast splinters out of his arms and Leo punched buttons on the ship’s console.

“Well, that was sucktastic,” Leo said. “Should I wake the others?”

Hazel was tempted to say yes, but the other crew members had taken the night shift and had earned their rest. They were exhausted from defending the ship. Every few hours, it seemed, some Roman monster had decided the _Argo II_ looked like a tasty treat.

A few weeks ago, Hazel wouldn’t have believed that anyone could sleep through a _numina_ attack, but now she imagined her friends were still snoring away belowdecks. Whenever she got a chance to crash, she slept like a coma patient.

“They need rest,” she said. “We’ll have to figure out another way on our own.”

“Huh.” Leo scowled at his monitor. In his tattered work shirt and grease-splattered jeans, he looked like he’d just lost a wrestling match with a locomotive.

Ever since their friends Percy and Annabeth had fallen into Tartarus, Leo had been working almost non-stop. He’d been acting angrier and even more driven than usual. Hazel worried about him. But part of her was relieved by the change. Whenever Leo smiled and joked, he looked too much like Sammy, his great-grandfather… Hazel’s first boyfriend, back in 1942.

Ugh, why did her life have to be so complicated?

“Another way,” Leo muttered. “Do you see one?”

On his monitor glowed a map of Italy. The Apennine Mountains ran down the middle of the boot-shaped country. A green dot for the _Argo II_ blinked on the western side of the range, a few hundred miles north of Rome. Their path should have been simple. They needed to get to a place called Epirus in Greece and find an old temple called the House of Hades (or Pluto, as the Romans called him; or as Hazel liked to think of him: the World’s Worst Absent Father).

To reach Epirus, all they had to do was go straight east—over the Apennines and across the Adriatic Sea. But it hadn’t worked out that way. Each time they tried to cross the spine of Italy, the mountain gods attacked.

“Maybe if you would stop trying to cross the mountains after the _first_ time the _numina_ attacked, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Nico scowled. “I _said_ we would only keep getting attacked, but did anyone listen? No!”

Leo winced and looked back at his map.

For the past two days they’d skirted north, hoping to find a safe pass, with no luck. The _numina montanum_ were sons of Gaea, Hazel’s least favourite goddess. That made them very determined enemies. The _Argo II_ couldn’t fly high enough to avoid their attacks and, even with all its defences, the ship couldn’t make it across the range without being smashed to pieces.

“It’s our fault,” Hazel said. “Nico’s and mine. The _numina_ can sense us.”

“I think it’s more likely they can sense the Athena Parthenos,” Nico said sourly.

Hazel gave Nico a sharp look. Since they’d rescued him from the giants, he’d started to regain his strength, but he was still painfully thin. His black shirt and jeans hung off his skeletal frame. Long dark hair framed his sunken eyes. His olive complexion had turned a sickly greenish white, like the colour of tree sap.

But what Nico lacked in health, he more than made up for with a snarky attitude. Hazel didn’t understand _why_ Nico was so annoyed about the _numina_ or why he didn’t seem to like the Athena Parthenos much. He wouldn’t tell her when she asked, instead brushing the questions aside or completely ignoring her.

Her half-brother was an enigma, that was for sure. In human years, he was barely fourteen, just a year older than Hazel, but that didn’t tell the whole story. Like Hazel, Nico di Angelo was a demigod from another era. He radiated a kind of old energy—a melancholy that came from knowing he didn’t belong in the modern world. More than that, Nico gave off an otherworldly feeling like he was older than he looked. Which was kind of true.

Hazel hadn’t known him very long, but she understood, even shared, his sadness. The children of Hades (Pluto—whichever) rarely had happy lives. And, judging from what Nico had told her the night before, their biggest challenge was yet to come when they reached the House of Hades—a challenge he’d implored her to keep secret from the others.

“I mean, the statue is like a magical beacon,” Nico added quickly. He looked worried for a second like he had said something he shouldn’t have.

Nico did things like that sometimes. Hazel didn’t understand that either.

Leo traced his finger down the map of Italy. “So crossing the mountains is out. Thing is they go a long way in either direction.”

“We could go by sea,” Hazel suggested. “Sail around the southern tip of Italy.”

“That’s a long way,” Nico said. “Plus, we don’t have…” His voice cracked. “You know… Percy.”

The name hung in the air like an impending storm.

Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon… probably the demigod Hazel admired most. He’d saved her life so many times on their quest to Alaska, but when he had needed Hazel’s help in Rome she’d failed him. She’d watched, powerless, as he and Annabeth had plunged into that pit.

Hazel took a deep breath. Percy and Annabeth were still alive. She knew that in her heart. She could still help them if she could get to the House of Hades, if she could survive the challenge Nico had warned her about…

“What about continuing north?” she asked. “There has to be a break in the mountains, or something.”

Leo fiddled with the bronze Archimedes sphere that he’d installed on the console—his newest and most dangerous toy. Every time Hazel looked at the thing, her mouth went dry. She worried that Leo would turn the wrong combination on the sphere and accidentally eject them all from the deck, or blow up the ship, or turn the _Argo II_ into a giant toaster.

Fortunately, they got lucky. The sphere grew a camera lens and projected a 3-D image of the Apennine Mountains above the console.

“I dunno.” Leo examined the hologram. “I don’t see any good passes to the north. But I like that idea better than backtracking south. I’m done with Rome.”

No one argued with that. Rome had not been a good experience.

“Whatever we do,” Nico said, “we have to hurry. Every day that Annabeth and Percy are in Tartarus…”

He didn’t need to finish. They had to hope Percy and Annabeth could survive long enough to find the Tartarus side of the Doors of Death. Then, assuming the _Argo II_ could reach the House of Hades, they might be able to open the Doors on the mortal side, save their friends and seal the entrance, stopping Gaea’s forces from being reincarnated in the mortal world over and over.

Yes… nothing could go wrong with _that_ plan.

Nico scowled at the Italian countryside below them, but Hazel got the impression he was really scowling at something else. “Hazel’s right. There’s got to be a break in the mountains eventually.”

It seemed like Nico was the only thing holding them together since Percy and Annabeth had fallen into Tartarus. Percy had been their backbone. He’d given them confidence as they sailed across the Atlantic and into the Mediterranean. As for Annabeth—she’d been the de facto leader of the quest. She’d recovered the Athena Parthenos single-handedly. She was the smartest of the seven, the one with the answers.

With both of them gone, the team had started to fall apart. And then Nico stepped up.

Hazel wasn’t sure how Nico was doing it. He seemed to have slid into his place on the _Argo II_ so easily. Sometimes he would back her decisions, sometimes he would back Jason, and sometimes he would so fervently give his own opinion, Hazel had to wonder if Nico was the real leader now.

“We need some creative thinking,” she said. “Another way to cross those mountains, or a way to hide ourselves from the _numina_.”

“I wish Lou Ellen was here,” Nico muttered.

“Who?” Hazel asked.

“Daughter of Hecate,” Leo answered.

“She’s one of my friends at Camp,” Nico added. “She could use the Mist to hide us.”

“I could maybe rig some kind of camouflage,” Leo said, “like a smoke screen to hide us in the clouds. Kinda like the Mist.” He didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

Hazel stared down at the rolling farmland, thinking about what lay beneath it—the realm of her father, lord of the Underworld. She’d only met Pluto once, and she hadn’t even realized who he was. She certainly had never expected help from him—not when she was alive the first time, not during her time as a spirit in the Underworld, not since Nico had brought her back to the world of the living.

Her dad’s servant Thanatos, god of death, had suggested that Pluto might be doing Hazel a favour by ignoring her. After all, she wasn’t supposed to be alive. If Pluto took notice of her, he might have to return her to the land of the dead.

Which meant calling on Pluto would be a very bad idea. And yet…

 _Please, Dad,_ she found herself praying. _I have to find a way to your temple in Greece – the House of Hades. If you’re down there, show me what to do._

At the edge of the horizon, a flicker of movement caught her eye—something small and beige racing across the fields at incredible speed, leaving a vapour trail like a plane’s.

Hazel couldn’t believe it. She didn’t dare hope, but it had to be… “Arion.”

“What?” Nico asked.

Leo let out a happy whoop as the dust cloud got closer. “It’s her horse, man! You missed that whole part. We haven’t seen him since Salt Lake!”

Hazel laughed—the first time she’d laughed in days. It felt so good to see her old friend.

About a mile to the north, the small beige dot circled a hill and stopped at the summit. He was difficult to make out, but when the horse reared and whinnied the sound carried all the way to the _Argo II._ Hazel had no doubt—it was Arion.

“We have to meet him,” she said. “He’s here to help.”

“Yeah, okay.” Leo scratched his head. “But, uh, we talked about not landing the ship on the ground any more, remember? You know, with Gaea wanting to destroy us and all.”

“Just get me close, and I’ll use the rope ladder.” Hazel’s heart was pounding. “I think Arion wants to tell me something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how Hazel says "in human years" to describe Nico. Like anyone who didn't these characters would be so confused.
> 
> And first chapter! Yay!


	2. I Cannot Speak Horse (Hazel II)

HAZEL HAD NEVER FELT SO HAPPY. Well, except for maybe after defeating Alcyoneus, when she’d kissed Frank for the first time… but this was a close second.

As soon as she reached the ground, she ran to Arion and threw her arms around his neck. “I missed you!” She pressed her face into the horse’s warm flank, which smelled of sea salt and apples. “Where have you been?”

Arion nickered. Hazel wished she could speak Horse like Percy could, but she got the general idea.

Arion sounded impatient, as if saying,  _ No time for sentiment, girl! Come on! _

“You want me to go with you?” she guessed.

Arion bobbed his head, trotting on the spot. His dark brown eyes gleamed with urgency.

Hazel still couldn’t believe he was actually here. He could run across any surface, even the sea, but she’d been afraid he wouldn’t follow them into the ancient lands. The Mediterranean was too dangerous for demigods and their allies. He wouldn’t have come unless Hazel was in dire need. And he seemed so agitated… Anything that could make a fearless horse skittish should have terrified Hazel.

Instead, she felt elated. She was so tired of being seasick and airsick. Aboard the  _ Argo II, _ she felt about as useful as a box of ballast. She was glad to be back on solid ground, even if it was Gaea’s territory. She was ready to ride.

“Hazel!” Nico called down from the ship. “What’s the plan?”

“It’s fine!” She crouched down and summoned a gold nugget from the earth. She was getting better at controlling her power. Precious stones hardly ever popped up around her by accident any more, and pulling gold from the ground was easy.

She fed Arion the nugget… his favourite snack. Then she smiled up at Leo and Nico, who were watching her from the top of the ladder a hundred feet above. “Arion wants to take me somewhere.”

“Uh…” Leo pointed north. “Please tell me he’s not taking you into that?”

Hazel had been so focused on Arion she hadn’t noticed the disturbance. A mile away, on the crest of the next hill, a storm had gathered over some old stone ruins—maybe the remains of a Roman temple or a fortress. A funnel cloud snaked its way down towards the hill like an inky black finger.

Hazel’s mouth tasted like blood. She looked at Arion. “You want to go there?”

Arion whinnied, as if to say,  _ Uh, duh! _

Well… Hazel had asked for help. Was this her dad’s answer?

She hoped so, but she sensed something besides Pluto at work in that storm… something dark, powerful and not necessarily friendly.

Still, this was her chance to help her friends—to lead instead of follow.

She tightened the straps of her Imperial gold cavalry sword and climbed onto Arion’s back.

“I’ll be okay!” she called up to Nico and Leo. “Stay put and wait for me.”

“Be careful,” Nico called down.

“Don’t worry, I will,” she promised.

She spurred Arion, and they shot across the countryside, heading straight for the growing tornado.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this chapter is pretty short and I think chapter three is too. But also... a lot of Percy and Annabeth chapters are short too. I didn't notice that before, but like they have two or three short ones and then either one long one or two moderate length ones.
> 
> And I haven't finished writing this! I'm on like chapter sixty four. There's seventy eight chapters total in the book I think, plus the extra ones that I'm adding in. I guess it's all the little ones that really add up in the end.


	3. I Meet the Triple Goddess (Hazel III)

THE STORM SWALLOWED THE HILL in a swirling cone of black vapour.

Arion charged straight into it.

Hazel found herself at the summit, but it felt like a different dimension. The world lost its colour. The walls of the storm encircled the hill in murky black. The sky churned grey. The crumbling ruins were bleached so white that they almost glowed. Even Arion had turned from caramel brown to a dark shade of ash.

In the eye of the tempest, the air was still. Hazel’s skin tingled coolly, as if she’d been rubbed with alcohol. In front of her, an arched gateway led through mossy walls into some sort of enclosure.

Hazel couldn’t see much through the gloom, but she felt a presence within, as if she were a chunk of iron close to a large magnet. Its pull was irresistible, dragging her forward.

Yet she hesitated. She reined in Arion, and he clopped impatiently, the ground crackling under his hooves. Wherever he stepped, the grass, dirt and stones turned white like frost. Hazel remembered the Hubbard Glacier in Alaska—how the surface had cracked under their feet. She remembered the floor of that horrible cavern in Rome crumbling to dust, plunging Percy and Annabeth into Tartarus.

She hoped this black-and-white hilltop wouldn’t dissolve under her, but she decided it was best to keep moving.

“Let’s go, then, boy.” Her voice sounded muffled, as if she were speaking into a pillow.

Arion trotted through the stone archway. Ruined walls bordered a square courtyard about the size of a tennis court. Three other gateways, one in the middle of each wall, led north, east and west. In the centre of the yard, two cobblestone paths intersected, making a cross. Mist hung in the air—hazy shreds of white that coiled and undulated as if they were alive.

Not mist, Hazel realized.  _ The Mist. _

All her life, she’d heard about the Mist—the supernatural veil that obscured the world of myth from the sight of mortals. It could deceive humans, even demigods, into seeing monsters as harmless animals, or gods as regular people.

Hazel had never thought of it as actual smoke, but as she watched it curling around Arion’s legs, floating through the broken arches of the ruined courtyard, the hairs stood up on her arms. Somehow she knew: this white stuff was pure magic.

In the distance, a dog howled. Arion wasn’t usually scared of anything, but he reared, huffing nervously.

“It’s okay.” Hazel stroked his neck. “We’re in this together. I’m going to get down, all right?”

She slid off Arion’s back. Instantly he turned and ran.

“Arion, wai–”

But he’d already disappeared the way he’d come.

_ So much for being in this together. _

Another howl cut through the air—closer this time.

Hazel stepped towards the centre of the courtyard. The Mist clung to her like freezer fog.

“Hello?” she called.

“Hello,” a voice answered.

The pale figure of a woman appeared at the northern gateway. No, wait… she stood at the eastern entrance. No, the western. Three smoky images of the same woman moved in unison towards the centre of the ruins. Her form was blurred, made from Mist, and she was trailed by two smaller wisps of smoke, darting at her heels like animals. Some sort of pets?

She reached the centre of the courtyard and her three forms merged into one. She solidified into a young woman in a dark sleeveless gown. Her golden hair was gathered into a high-set ponytail, Ancient Greek style. Her dress was so silky it seemed to ripple, as if the cloth were ink spilling off her shoulders. She looked no more than twenty, but Hazel knew that meant nothing.

“Hazel Levesque,” said the woman.

She was beautiful, but deathly pale. Once, back in New Orleans, Hazel had been forced to attend a wake for a dead classmate. She remembered the lifeless body of the young girl in the open casket. Her face had been made up prettily, as if she were resting, which Hazel had found terrifying.

This woman reminded Hazel of that girl—except the woman’s eyes were open and completely black. When she tilted her head, she seemed to break into three different people again… misty after-images blurring together, like a photograph of someone moving too fast to capture.

“Who are you?” Hazel’s fingers twitched at the hilt of her sword. “I mean… which goddess?”

Hazel was sure of that much. This woman radiated power. Everything around them—the swirling Mist, the monochromatic storm, the eerie glow of the ruins—was because of her presence.

“Ah.” The woman nodded. “Let me give you some light.”

She raised her hands. Suddenly she was holding two old-fashioned reed torches, guttering with fire. The Mist receded to the edges of the courtyard. At the woman’s sandalled feet, the two wispy animals took on solid form. One was a black Labrador retriever. The other was a long, grey furry rodent with a white mask around its face. A weasel, maybe?

The woman smiled serenely.

“I am Hecate,” she said. “Goddess of magic. We have much to discuss if you’re to live through tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but the next one is longer.


	4. Our Only Choice is Naturally the Most Dangerous (Hazel IV)

HAZEL WANTED TO RUN, but her feet seemed to be stuck to the white-glazed ground.

On either side of the crossroads, two dark metal torch-stands erupted from the dirt like plant stalks. Hecate fixed her torches in them, then walked a slow circle around Hazel, regarding her as if they were partners in some eerie dance.

The black dog and the weasel followed in her wake.

“You are like your mother,” Hecate decided.

Hazel’s throat constricted. “You knew her?”

“Of course. Marie was a fortune-teller. She dealt in charms and curses and gris-gris. I am the goddess of magic.”

Those pure black eyes seemed to pull at Hazel, as if trying to extract her soul. During her first lifetime in New Orleans, Hazel had been tormented by the kids at St Agnes School because of her mother. They’d called Marie Levesque a witch. The nuns had muttered that Hazel’s mother was trading with the Devil.

_ If the nuns were scared of my mom, _ Hazel wondered,  _ what would they make of this goddess? _

“Many fear me,” Hecate said, as if reading her thoughts. “But magic is neither good nor evil. It is a tool, like a knife. Is a knife evil? Only if the wielder is evil.”

“My—my mother…” Hazel stammered. “She didn’t believe in magic. Not really. She was just faking it, for the money.”

The weasel chittered and bared its teeth. Then it made a squeaking sound from its back end. Under other circumstances, a weasel passing gas might have been funny, but Hazel didn’t laugh. The rodent’s red eyes glared at her balefully, like tiny coals.

“Peace, Gale,” said Hecate. She gave Hazel an apologetic shrug. “Gale does not like hearing about nonbelievers and con artists. She herself was once a witch, you see.”

“Your weasel was a witch?”

“She’s a polecat, actually,” Hecate said. “But, yes—Gale was once a disagreeable human witch. She had terrible personal hygiene, plus extreme—ah, digestive issues.” Hecate waved her hand in front of her nose. “It gave my other followers a bad name.”

“Okay.” Hazel tried not to look at the weasel. She really didn’t want to know about the rodent’s intestinal problems.

“At any rate,” Hecate said, “I turned her into a polecat. She’s much better as a polecat.”

Hazel swallowed. She looked at the black dog, which was affectionately nuzzling the goddess’s hand. "And your Labrador…?”

“Oh, she’s Hecuba, the former queen of Troy,” Hecate said, as if that should be obvious.

The dog grunted.

“You’re right, Hecuba,” the goddess said. “We don’t have time for long introductions. The point is, Hazel Levesque, your mother may have claimed not to believe, but she had true magic. Eventually, she realized this. When she searched for a spell to summon the god Pluto, I helped her find it.”

“You…?”

“Yes.” Hecate continued circling Hazel. “I saw potential in your mother. I see even more potential in you.”

Hazel’s head spun. She remembered her mother’s confession just before she had died: how she’d summoned Pluto, how the god had fallen in love with her and how, because of her greedy wish, her daughter Hazel had been born with a curse. Hazel could summon riches from the earth, but anyone who used them would suffer and die.

Now this goddess was saying that she had made all that happen.

“My mother suffered because of that magic. My whole life—”

“Your life wouldn’t have happened without me,” Hecate said flatly. “I have no time for your anger. Neither do you. Without my help, you will die.”

The black dog snarled. The polecat snapped its teeth and passed gas.

Hazel felt like her lungs were filling with hot sand.

“What kind of help?” she demanded.

Hecate raised her pale arms. The three gateways she’d come from—north, east and west—began to swirl with Mist. A flurry of black-and-white images glowed and flickered, like the old silent movies that were still playing in theatres when Hazel was small.

In the western doorway, Roman and Greek demigods in full armour fought one another on a hillside under a large pine tree. The grass was strewn with the wounded and the dying. Hazel saw herself riding Arion, charging through the melee and shouting—trying to stop the violence.

In the gateway to the east, Hazel saw the  _ Argo II _ plunging through the sky above the Apennines. Its rigging was in flames. A boulder smashed into the quarterdeck. Another punched through the hull. The ship burst like a rotten pumpkin, and the engine exploded.

The images in the northern doorway were even worse. Hazel saw Leo, unconscious—or dead—falling through the clouds. She saw Frank staggering alone down a dark tunnel, clutching his arm, his shirt soaked in blood. And Hazel saw herself in a vast cavern filled with strands of light like a luminous web. She was struggling to break through. Then, Percy and Annabeth wandering through a dark cavern looking exhausted.

“Choices,” said Hecate. “You stand at the crossroads, Hazel Levesque. And I am the goddess of crossroads.”

The ground rumbled at Hazel’s feet. She looked down and saw the glint of silver coins… thousands of old Roman denarii breaking the surface all around her, as if the entire hilltop was coming to a boil. She’d been so agitated by the visions in the doorways that she must have summoned every bit of silver in the surrounding countryside.

“The past is close to the surface in this place,” Hecate said. “In ancient times, two great Roman roads met here. News was exchanged. Markets were held. Friends met, and enemies fought. Entire armies had to choose a direction. Crossroads are always places of decision.”

“Like… like Janus.” Hazel remembered the shrine of Janus on Temple Hill back at Camp Jupiter.

Demigods would go there to make decisions. They would flip a coin, heads or tails, and hope the two-faced god would guide them well. Hazel had always hated that place. She’d never understood why her friends were so willing to let a god take away their responsibility for choosing. After all Hazel had been through, she trusted the wisdom of the gods about as much as she trusted a New Orleans slot machine.

The goddess of magic made a disgusted hiss. “Janus and his doorways. He would have you believe that all choices are black or white, yes or no, in or out. In fact, it’s not that simple. Whenever you reach the crossroads, there are always at least three ways to go… four, if you count going backwards. You are at such a crossing now, Hazel.”

Hazel looked again at each swirling gateway: a demigod war, the destruction of the  _ Argo II, _ disaster for herself and her friends. “All the choices are bad.”

“All choices have risks,” the goddess corrected. “But what is your goal?”

“My goal?” Hazel waved helplessly at the doorways. “None of these.”

The dog Hecuba snarled. Gale the polecat skittered around the goddess’s feet, farting and gnashing her teeth.

“You could go backwards,” Hecate suggested, “retrace your steps to Rome… but Gaea’s forces are expecting that. None of you will survive.”

“So… what are you saying?”

Hecate stepped to the nearest torch. She scooped a handful of fire and sculpted the flames until she was holding a miniature relief map of Italy.

“You could go west.” Hecate let her finger drift away from her fiery map. “Go back to America with your prize, the Athena Parthenos. Your comrades back home, Greek and Roman, are on the brink of war. Leave now, and you might save many lives.”

“Might,” Hazel repeated. “But Gaea is supposed to wake in Greece. That’s where the giants are gathering.”

“True. Gaea has set the date of August first, the Feast of Spes, goddess of hope, for her rise to power. By waking on the Day of Hope, she intends to destroy all hope forever. Even if you reached Greece by then, could you stop her? I do not know.” Hecate traced her finger along the tops of the fiery Apennines. “You could go east, across the mountains, but Gaea will do anything to stop you from crossing Italy. She has raised her mountain gods against you.”

“We noticed,” Hazel said.

“Any attempt to cross the Apennines will mean the destruction of your ship. Ironically, this might be the safest option for your crew. I foresee that all of you would survive the explosion. It is possible, though unlikely, that you could still reach Epirus and close the Doors of Death. You might find Gaea and prevent her rise. But by then both demigod camps would be destroyed. You would have no home to return to.” Hecate smiled. “More likely, the destruction of your ship would strand you in the mountains. It would mean the end of your quest, but it would spare you and your friends much pain and suffering in the days to come. The war with the giants would have to be won or lost without you.”

_ Won or lost without us. _

A small guilty part of Hazel found that appealing. She’d been wishing for the chance to be a normal girl. She didn’t want any more pain or suffering for herself and her friends. They’d already been through so much.

She looked behind Hecate at the middle gateway. She saw Percy and Annabeth stumbling through dark tunnels, clothes worn and torn and both of them looking worse-for-the-wear.

“What about them?” Hazel asked, her voice ragged. “Percy and Annabeth?”

Hecate shrugged. “West, east or south… they die.”

“Not an option,” Hazel said.

“Then you have only one path, though it is the most dangerous.”

Hecate’s finger crossed her miniature Apennines, leaving a glowing white line in the red flames. “There is a secret pass here in the north, a place where I hold sway, where Hannibal once crossed when he marched against Rome.”

The goddess made a wide loop… to the top of Italy, then east to the sea, then down along the western coast of Greece. “Once through the pass, you would travel north to Bologna and then to Venice. From there, sail the Adriatic to your goal, here: Epirus in Greece.”

Hazel didn’t know much about geography. She had no idea what the Adriatic Sea was like. She’d never heard of Bologna, and all she knew about Venice was vague stories about canals and gondolas.

But one thing was obvious. “That’s so far out of the way.”

“Which is why Gaea will not expect you to take this route,” Hecate said. “I can obscure your progress somewhat, but the success of your journey will depend on you, Hazel Levesque. You must learn to use the Mist.”

“Me?” Hazel’s heart felt like it was tumbling down her rib cage. “Use the Mist how?”

Hecate extinguished her map of Italy. She flicked her hand at the black dog Hecuba. Mist collected around the Labrador until she was completely hidden in a cocoon of white. The fog cleared with an audible  _ poof! _ Where the dog had stood was a disgruntled-looking black kitten with golden eyes.

“Mew,” it complained.

“I am the goddess of the Mist,” Hecate explained. “I am responsible for keeping the veil that separates the world of the gods from the world of mortals. My children learn to use the Mist to their advantage, to create illusions or influence the minds of mortals. Other demigods can do this as well. And so must you, Hazel, if you are to help your friends.”

“But…” Hazel looked at the cat. She knew it was actually Hecuba, the black Labrador, but she couldn’t convince herself. The cat seemed so real. “Nico mentioned your daughter Lou Ellen can do this. Can’t you send her to us? I can’t do that.”

“My daughter,” Hecate said, looking please. “Yes, she has a talent for this. But your mother also had this talent. You have even more. As a child of Pluto who has returned from the dead, you understand the veil between worlds better than most. You can control the Mist. If you do not… well, your brother Nico has already warned you. The spirits have whispered to him, told him of your future. When you reach the House of Hades, you will meet a formidable enemy. She cannot be overcome by strength or sword. You alone can defeat her, and you will require magic.”

Hazel’s legs felt wobbly. She remembered Nico’s grim expression, his fingers digging into her arm.  _ You can’t tell the others. Not yet. Their courage is already stretched to the limit. _

“Who?” Hazel croaked. “Who is this enemy?”

“I will not speak her name,” Hecate said. “That would alert her to your presence before you are ready to face her. Go north, Hazel. As you travel, practise summoning the Mist. When you arrive in Bologna, seek out the two dwarfs. They will lead you to a treasure that may help you survive in the House of Hades.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Mew,” the kitten complained.

“Yes, yes, Hecuba.” The goddess flicked her hand again, and the cat disappeared. The black Labrador was back in its place.

“You will understand, Hazel,” the goddess promised. “From time to time, I will send Gale to check on your progress.”

The polecat hissed, its beady red eyes full of malice.

“Wonderful,” Hazel muttered.

“Before you reach Epirus, you must be prepared,” Hecate said. “If you succeed, then perhaps we will meet again… for the final battle.”

_ A final battle,  _ Hazel thought.  _ Oh, joy. _

Hazel wondered if she could prevent the revelations she saw in the Mist—Leo falling through the sky; Frank stumbling through the dark, alone and gravely wounded; Percy and Annabeth alone in a cave.

She hated the gods’ riddles and their unclear advice. She was starting to despise crossroads.

“Why are you helping me?” Hazel demanded. “At Camp Jupiter, they said you sided with the Titans in the last war.”

Hecate’s dark eyes glinted. “Because I  _ am  _ a Titan—daughter of Perses and Asteria. Long before the Olympians came to power, I ruled the Mist. Despite this, in the First Titan War, millennia ago, I sided with Zeus against Kronos. I was not blind to Kronos’s cruelty. I hoped Zeus would prove a better king.”

She gave a small, bitter laugh. “When Demeter lost her daughter Persephone, kidnapped by your father, I guided Demeter through the darkest night with my torches, helping her search. And when the giants rose the first time I again sided with the gods. I fought my arch-enemy Clytius, made by Gaea to absorb and defeat all my magic.”

“Clytius.” Hazel had never heard that name—Clai-tee-us—but saying it made her limbs feel heavy.

She glanced at the images in the northern doorway—a massive dark shape looming the black-and-silver doors. “Is he the threat in the House of Hades?”

“Oh, he waits for you there,” Hecate said. “But first you must defeat the witch. Unless you manage that…”

She snapped her fingers, and all of the gateways turned dark. The Mist dissolved, the images gone.

“We all face choices,” the goddess said. “When Kronos arose the second time, I made a mistake. I supported him. I had grown tired of being ignored by the so-called major gods. Despite my years of faithful service, they mistrusted me, refused me a seat in their hall…”

The polecat Gale chittered angrily.

“It does not matter any more.” The goddess sighed. “I have made peace again with Olympus. Even now, when they are laid low—their Greek and Roman personas fighting each other—I will help them. Greek or Roman, I have always been only Hecate. I will assist you against the giants, if you prove yourself worthy. So now it is your choice, Hazel Levesque. Will you trust me… or will you shun me, as the Olympian gods have done too often?”

Blood roared in Hazel’s ears. Could she trust this dark goddess, who’d given her mother the magic that ruined her life? Sorry, no. She didn’t much like Hecate’s dog nor her gassy polecat either.

But she also knew she couldn’t let Percy and Annabeth die.

“I’ll go north,” she said. “We’ll take your secret pass through the mountains.”

Hecate nodded, the slightest hint of satisfaction in her face. “You have chosen well, though the path will not be easy. Many monsters will rise against you. Even some of my own servants have sided with Gaea, hoping to destroy your mortal world.”

The goddess took her double torches from their stands. “Prepare yourself, daughter of Pluto. If you succeed against the witch, we will meet again.”

“I’ll succeed,” Hazel promised. “And Hecate? I’m not choosing one of your paths. I’m making my own.”

The goddess arched her eyebrows. Her polecat writhed, and her dog snarled.

“We’re going to find a way to stop Gaea,” Hazel said. “We’re going to rescue our friends from Tartarus. We’re going keep the crew and the ship together and we’re going to stop Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood from going to war. We’re going to do it all.”

The storm howled, the black walls of the funnel cloud swirling faster.

“Interesting,” Hecate said, as if Hazel were an unexpected result in a science experiment. “That would be magic worth seeing.”

A wave of darkness blotted out the world. When Hazel’s sight returned, the storm, the goddess and her minions were gone. Hazel stood on the hillside in the morning sunlight, alone in the ruins except for Arion, who paced next to her, nickering impatiently.

“I agree,” Hazel told the horse. “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

“What happened?” Leo asked as Hazel climbed aboard the  _ Argo II. _

Hazel’s hands still shook from her talk with the goddess. She glanced over the rail and saw the dust of Arion’s wake stretching across the hills of Italy. She had hoped her friend would stay, but couldn’t blame him for wanting to get away from this place as fast as possible.

The countryside sparkled as the summer sun hit the morning dew. On the hill, the old ruins stood white and silent—no sign of ancient paths, or goddesses, or farting weasels.

“Hazel?” Nico asked.

Her knees buckled. Nico and Leo grabbed her arms and helped her to the steps of the foredeck. She felt embarrassed, collapsing like some fairy-tale damsel, but her energy was gone. The memory of those glowing scenes at the crossroads filled her with dread.

“I met Hecate,” she managed.

She didn’t tell them everything. She remembered what Nico had said:  _ Their courage is already stretched to the limit. _ But she told them about the secret northern pass through the mountains, and the detour Hecate had described that could take them to Epirus.

When she was done, Nico took her hand. His eyes were full of concern. “Hazel, you met Hecate at a crossroads. That’s… that’s something many demigods don’t survive. And the ones who do survive are never the same. Are you sure you’re—”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

But she knew she wasn’t. She remembered how bold and angry she’d felt, telling the goddess she’d find her own path and succeed at everything. Now her boast seemed ridiculous. Her courage had abandoned her.

“What if Hecate is tricking us?” Leo asked. “This route could be a trap.”

Hazel shook her head. “If it was a trap, I think Hecate would’ve made the northern route sound tempting. Believe me, she didn’t.”

Leo pulled a calculator out of his tool belt and punched in some numbers. “That’s… something like three hundred miles out of our way to get to Venice. Then we’d have to backtrack down the Adriatic. And you said something about baloney dwarfs?”

“Dwarfs in Bologna,” Hazel said. “I guess Bologna is a city. But why we have to find dwarfs there… I have no idea. Some sort of treasure to help us with the quest.”

“Huh,” Leo said. “I mean, I’m all about treasure, but—”

“It’s our best option.” Nico helped Hazel to her feet. “We have to make up for lost time, travel as fast as we can.”

“Fast?” Leo grinned. “I can do fast.”

He hurried to the console and started flipping switches.

Nico took Hazel’s arm and guided her out of earshot. “What else did Hecate say? Anything about—”

“I can’t.” Hazel cut him off. The images she’d seen had almost overwhelmed her.

_ You must defeat the witch, _ Hecate had said.  _ You alone can defeat her. Unless you manage that… _

_ The end, _ Hazel thought.  _ All gateways closed. All hope extinguished. _

Nico had warned her. He’d communed with the dead, heard them whispering hints about their future. Two children of the Underworld would enter the House of Hades. They would face an impossible foe. Only one of them would make it to the Doors of Death.

Hazel couldn’t meet her brother’s eyes.

“I’ll tell you later,” she promised, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “Right now, we should rest while we can. Tonight, we cross the Apennines.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, long chapter! And coming up tomorrow... a new chapter that is NOT from the books!
> 
> Also... I'm Team Hecate, not Team Janus. I love choosing option c.


	5. Piper is Really Good at Figuring Things Out (Nico V)

NICO FIGURED IF THERE WAS A TIME AS GOOD AS ANY, it would be as they crossed the Apennines. Before the Kerkopes could distract them.

When they changed the rotation of who protected the ship was the best time. Sure it was late at night, and sure, he had to wake Magnus and Alex, but he needed them for this.

“Before we keep going, there’s something we have to talk about,” Nico started.

Piper raised her eyebrows. “What? Something about…” She didn’t finish her sentence, but Nico knew what she was talking about. Tartarus.

“Percy told me about the flashes you and Leo have had,” Nico said to her. “And the dreams Jason’s been having.”

Jason looked uncomfortable. “So what? All demigods have weird dreams.”

“Do all demigods have dreams that end up affecting them in the middle of a battle?” Nico demanded. “It’s just like Hazel’s flashbacks. Thank the gods she doesn’t have that anymore.”

Hazel pursed her lips. “Nico’s right. My blackouts could have gotten me killed if I had one in battle. But these visions… well, they’re just dreams, aren’t they?”

“If it was just a dream, Jason wouldn’t have been speared by the giant,” Nico said sharply.

Jason frowned. “What does my dream have to do with—”

“You  _ should have _ sent the spear flying away with your wind power,” Nico said. “Instead, you froze and you almost died.”

“I don’t follow,” Jason admitted.

“Neither do I,” Frank said.

Leo frowned. “Uh, Jason, didn’t you say your dreams ended with you dying by a spear through the back?”

Jason flinched. He reached up and touched his sternum where the point of the spear that would one day kill him would go through. “Yeah, but—”

“But it almost got you killed,” Nico interrupted. “Percy told me… he told me that I needed to make sure that wouldn’t happen again.”

Hazel looked at him. “Before… before he fell? I didn’t hear that.”

“No,” Alex said, speaking up for the first time. She had her arms crossed and was leaning back in her chair. “Before we broke through the ground. When Percy and Nico had their chat.”

“Percy thought you could help with the visions then?” Piper asked hopefully. “Is that some power of Hades?”

Nico hesitated, then he shook his head. “No. It’s… well, I don’t understand  _ why  _ it’s happening, but I know what probably caused it.”

“What?” Jason asked. “It’s starting to drive me mad. Every time I have these dreams, I… Look, it sounds crazy, but I  _ know _ I’ve experienced those memories. I can’t explain it. I just… I know.”

“I know,” Nico said grimly. “Percy asked me to wait until after for me to share this with you.”

The  _ Argo II _ was silent except for the machinery on the ship.

“Wait until after?” Frank repeated.

Piper gave Nico a suspicious look. “You say that like you and Percy  _ knew _ he and Annabeth were going to fall.”

Nico swallowed. “I did. Percy and Annabeth too.”

“And us,” Magnus mumbled. “Alex and I knew.”

“You  _ knew _ ?” Piper shouted. “What do you mean  _ you knew _ about this? You  _ let them _ fall? How could you? Magnus, she’s your  _ cousin _ and you let her—” she cut off. “Did you say Percy and Annabeth knew too?”

Nico nodded. “We all knew. Annabeth… she made certain plans for… for getting through Tartarus and getting out. That’s what she was doing the past year.”

“Nico,” Hazel said calmly, “how could you know? Did you have a prophecy?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Nico said, heart racing at a hundred miles an hour. “About three years ago, Bianca and I were brought to Camp Half-Blood with the Hunters of Artemis, Percy, Annabeth, Thalia, Grover, and Magnus. But about seven years ago for me, Bianca and I were brought to Camp Half-Blood with the Hunters of Artemis, Percy, Thalia, and Grover.”

Leo tilted his head. “I’m not following. You and your sister went to Camp Half-Blood twice?”

“Oh. My. Gods,” Piper said, jaw dropping. “You cannot be serious.”

“Percy, Annabeth, Magnus, Alex, and I are all from the future,” Nico finally got out. “Roughly a year from now to be exact.”

* * *

If Nico was expecting a fanfare or celebration, he would have been disappointed. None of that happened. He was, however, expecting shouts of disbelief and anger. That didn’t happen either. Instead, everyone sat in shocked silence.

Finally, Hazel broke the silence. “You’ve known what was going to happen this whole time?” she asked. “So… when you came to get me from the Underworld, was that just something you felt like you had to do? Should… should I even be alive?”

“Don’t say that!” Frank said fiercely.

Hazel’s acquisition hit Nico like a knife through the heart.

“Of course I meant to bring you back!” Nico said. “Hazel… you’re my sister. I… in… in the other timeline, you started out as… well, I wanted to bring back Bianca, but I found you and… I was an awful brother. Then I got to know you and… you are my  _ sister. _ I love you for you and I was not going to let this… this whatever get in the way of us. Even if Bianca had been there for me to bring back this time, I would have gone and found you too. I told you not to ever think of yourself as a consolation prize and that’s true. You are a real person, you are my sister, and you are worth it.” He had stood up sometime during his speech, so he sat down, face warm from embarrassment at the amount of emotion.

Hazel blinked back tears. “Nico—”

“I told you I love you,” Nico said. “I mean it.”

“If you’re from the future, you must have known about the Giant war,” Piper said. “Why didn’t you stop it?”

“We are,” Magnus said. “That’s why we’re on this quest, right?”

“I mean, why didn’t you stop it before we had to go on this quest?” Piper explained. “Why do we have to fight Gaea and the giants if you know how to stop her.” A horrified look took over Piper’s face. “Unless you didn’t stop her before and that’s why you came back. Oh my gods, we failed, didn’t we? Gaea won?”

“No!” Nico sighed. “Gaea did not win. And if we could have stopped this, we would have, but that’s not what the prophecy says:

_ “Seven half-bloods shall answer the call. _

_ To storm or fire, the world must fall. _

_ Delivered for wisdom on Rome’s wings, _

_ Ones prepared with knowledge of all things. _

_ An oath to keep with a final breath, _

_ And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death. _

“It doesn’t say  _ The time travelers will defeat Gaea easily, _ ” Nico finished. He looked at Jason. “The dreams you’ve been having are glimpses of the future. Well, the future we come from anyway. I don’t know why you’re having them, but that’s what they are.”

Jason swallowed. “So… the boat. I was speared by a guy on a horse. That happened? Who was the other guy? The guy that stabbed me? And who was the boy I shouted to. I told him to remember something.”

Nico flinched. “Caligula. He’s the one who… he’s the one who killed you.”

“I… I’m dead?” Jason said quietly.

“I’m so sorry,” Nico whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Jason shook his head. “It’s fine. It had to happen one day. Caligula? Like… like the emperor? I thought he was dead. Did he come back through the Doors?”

“He never died,” Nico said. “It’s complicated. The boy you called to was Lester Papadopoulos. You wanted him to remember what it was like to be a mortal when he returned to Olympus.”

“What?”

“Lester is the mortal form of Apollo,” Nico explained. “Zeus punished him a few months after the end of the war. He kept his promise,” he added. “Your death… Apollo didn’t take it very well. I didn’t either. Piper and Leo… I don’t think they planned on returning to Camp ever. You two were both okay. Piper, you were living in Oklahoma with your dad and, Leo, you and—you’re living with some friends in Indiana.”

Piper and Leo looked like they were both still trying to process Jason’s apparent death.

“What about us?” Frank asked. “Hazel and I? Are we okay?”

Nico let himself smile. “Yeah. You’re both at Camp Jupiter. You both are kind of leaders there. Well, uh, obviously. You’re part of the Seven. But you’re doing good.” He paused. “And Percy and Annabeth were doing just fine getting ready to start at New Rome University.”

Leo’s face twisted. “Which I messed up by firing on them.”

“You fired on them last time,” Nico said. “Things worked out. The Athena Parthenos united the camps.”

“You LET ME FIRE ON NEW ROME?” Leo shouted.

“Hey!” Magnus snapped. “Annabeth tried to prevent it. Don’t you remember how she insisted on everyone staying  _ off _ the  _ Argo II _ until it was time to leave?”

“She could have done something to ward off the eidolons!”

“What was she supposed to do? Tell Piper to charmspeak invisible ghosts because she knows they’re possessing people, but she can’t tell Piper how she knows that?”

“What’s done is done,” Hazel said, interrupting them. “The important part is that we can still salvage Greek and Roman relations.”

“Uh, Maggie and I just got done preventing a world ending event on the Norse side of things when we came back in time,” Alex added, changing the subject. “Ragnarok’s delayed for a while. Yay.”

Hazel blinked. “Um. What about you, Nico?”

“Me?”

“Yes, what was your life like?” Hazel asked. “You were good? Happy?”

The corners of Nico’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. I was happy. I was actually staying at Camp Half-Blood year round. Uh, in the past in that time I had been staying in the Underworld or wherever I shadow traveled to. I mostly stayed away from other people.”

Hazel frowned. “That sounds…”

“Lonely?” Nico offered. “It was, but I didn’t really mind. At the time, I didn’t really have any friends nor did I think anyone wanted to be my friend. But it’s different now. I got closer to Percy and Annabeth before we time traveled, and I have some friends at Camp.”

“Lou Ellen?” Hazel guessed. “You mentioned her earlier.”

Nico shifted awkwardly. “Daughter of Hecate, yeah. There’s Cecil and Will too. Sons of Hermes and Apollo respectfully. And, you know, I put up with those two.” He jerked his thumb at Magnus and Alex.

“Cold, Nico,” Alex said. “We put up with you too.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Nico protested. “You two were literally dead and it was messing with my powers. How was I supposed to know I could control you?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Piper cut in.

Magnus gave Alex and Nico a frown. “Alex and I used to be dead,” he explained. “When Norse demigods die, they go to Valhalla if they die in battle and a Valkyrie picks them up. That’s what happened to us. We met Nico once before we time traveled, so we were technically dead and we found out that since he has power over the dead—”

“I could control them,” Nico finished. “It was kind of amusing.”

“Um,” Hazel began, “since you’re from the future and you know this daughter of Hecate, do you have any tips on how to use the Mist?”

Nico gave Hazel an apologetic smile. “I don’t understand the Mist at all, but even if I did… you have to figure it out yourself, Hazel. It’s not something I can teach you. You’ll get it though.”

“Is there anything you  _ can _ tell us?” Frank asked.

Magnus glanced at Nico. “Is there? Alex and I weren’t here last time.”

“Percy wanted me to explain your visions,” Nico said. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to know everything. Future knowledge… it can influence your choices. You shouldn’t do something just because you’re supposed to.”

Piper looked between Nico and Jason. It looked like she was trying to figure out something.

“What I will say is that Percy and Annabeth are going to make it to the Doors and they are going to close them,” Nico continued. “If something is going to happen, I’ll try to tell you about it. But I don’t remember  _ everything _ about this trip, okay? The little details are… they’re harder to remember. I was still trying to recover from Tartarus, and I’m trying to recover now.”

“We get it, Nico,” Piper said gently. “I guess… I’ve had some time to think about secrets. I was mad at Annabeth for keeping the Norse gods a secret, but she was right. It wasn’t her secret to tell and with everything going on with the Romans, I don’t blame her for being hesitant. The Greeks never found out about the Norse in the future, did they.”

“As far as we know, I don’t think so,” Alex said. “Not even all of the Norse knew about the Greeks. Just Magnus, me, and a couple friends. Now it’s just Magnus and me.”

“Now that we know about the time travel… I guess if you told me a week ago I would have felt hurt and angry,” Piper said. “I don’t. You guys have given up a lot to do this. I mean, you lived through it once and you had to do it again.”

“We weren’t supposed to be there for the Titan war or this war,” Magnus said. “I can’t take credit for doing this twice, but… My cousin and Percy have been through a lot. I wouldn’t wish this for them. They deserve a lot better. They’ve made the best of this situation though. Annabeth and Percy have saved some lives that were lost. Silena and Beckendorf for example. Percy said they were supposed to have died.”

“Then thank you,” Piper said quietly. “Silena’s amazing.”

“So,” Leo said. “Do you remember the winning lottery ticket numbers?”

Jason elbowed Leo. “We shouldn’t abuse future knowledge. Besides, it’s been a long day and you still haven’t completely recovered from Rome,” he told Nico. “You should get some rest.”

Nico rolled his eyes. Then he yawned. “Alright. Fine.”

He got up and headed for his cabin.

“Seriously? No winning lottery numbers? Alex, I know you’ll help me with this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now they all know!
> 
> Originally, there was going to be a scene here with Nico telling everyone about Will and, uh, well, it kinda... I wrote that at three in the morning. It's... it's something, that's for sure. I ended up taking that out and rewriting the chapter when I was more awake and not laughing my head off because I thought I was so clever or something. Mostly because as far as Nico is concerned, he's expecting a nice welcome party (read: brutal attack) from Cupid and if he already told everyone he's gay and was dating Will, that wouldn't exactly be a secret anymore.
> 
> Don't worry though! I will be posting this, uh, I called it crackfic, but... Anyway, it'll be up in Riordanverse Fic Outtakes soon!


	6. I Am Given Too Much Time to Think (Annabeth VI)

NINE DAYS.

As she fell, Annabeth thought about Hesiod, the old Greek poet who’d speculated it would take nine days to fall from earth to Tartarus. She wondered if that was true. The first time, she and Percy hadn’t thought to measure time. But time worked differently in Tartarus. They had only been down there for what seemed like a few days, but in the mortal world, it had been almost three weeks.

If her plan worked, they would be trading one magical place for another magical place where time moved differently. Three or four days in Tartarus was two and a half weeks in real time, and then a few days in the Labyrinth could turn into weeks in real time. Weeks they didn’t exactly have.

Annabeth didn’t know who she was kidding. There was no guarantee that they would be out of the maze by August 1st. Between the map she’d downloaded from Daedalus’s laptop and the Ariadne’s String—which she’d taken from the Big House attic before leaving on the quest—she was pretty sure she could find an exit by the Acropolis, but the trick was exiting there before the battle.

The task ahead was seeming more and more impossible. Facing Tartarus again was nerve wracking. How were they supposed to do this? How did  _ Nico _ do this?

Wind whistled in Annabeth’s ears. The air grew hotter and damper, as if they were plummeting into the throat of a massive dragon. She wrapped her arms around Percy and tried not to sob.

It wasn’t fair. They’d gone through so much, they’d  _ won _ against Gaea, and all that was thrown to ruin because they had gotten sent back in time. She should have known that life and college in New Rome was too good to be true.

Their surroundings changed. The darkness took on a grey-red tinge. She realized she could see Percy’s hair as she hugged him. The whistling in her ears turned into more of a roar. The air became intolerably hot, permeated with a smell like rotten eggs.

Suddenly, the chute they’d been falling through opened into a vast cavern. Maybe half a mile below them, Annabeth could see the bottom. For a moment she was too stunned to think properly. The entire island of Manhattan could have fitted inside this cavern—and she couldn’t even see its full extent.

Red clouds hung in the air like vaporized blood. The landscape—at least what she could see of it—was rocky black plains, punctuated by jagged mountains and fiery chasms. To Annabeth’s left, the ground dropped away in a series of cliffs, like colossal steps leading deeper into the abyss. The stench of sulphur made it hard to concentrate, but she focused on the ground directly below them and saw a ribbon of glittering black liquid—a river.

_ Gods, they were really here. _

“Percy!” Annabeth yelled in his ear. “Water!”

She gestured frantically. Percy’s face was hard to read in the dim red light. He looked shell-shocked and terrified, but he nodded.

Annabeth let the thought occur to her that maybe this wasn’t the Cocytus, but the Lethe or the Styx. That would be the Fates giving her and Percy the middle finger, and she wouldn’t have put it past them.

Not that it mattered. The river hurtled towards them. At the last second, Percy yelled defiantly. The water erupted in a massive geyser and swallowed them whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so close to finishing this. I'm on the last Hazel chapters now, so hopefully I will be able to give you guys the total amount of chapters in this story by the next update. And it's Thanksgiving break for me, so I'll be starting Blood of Olympus as soon as I finish writing this one! Hopefully I can make a lot of progress over the next week.


	7. The Fates Still Gave Us the Middle Finger (Annabeth VII)

THE IMPACT DIDN’T kill her, but the cold nearly did.

Freezing water shocked the air right out of her lungs. Her limbs turned rigid, and she lost her grip on Percy. She began to sink. Strange wailing sounds filled her ears—millions of heartbroken voices, as if the river were made of distilled sadness. The voices were worse than the cold. They weighed her down and made her numb.

_ What’s the point of struggling? _ they told her.  _ You’re dead anyway. You’ll never leave this place. _

Well, at least it was the Cocytus and not the Lethe.

Annabeth fought the urge to let herself sink to the bottom. There was some truth to what the voices said. She and Percy very likely might not make it out of here alive. Sinking to the bottom and drowning would be a much kinder fate than what would await them if they were forced to stay down here for eternity. She could just close her eyes…

Percy gripped her hand and jolted her back to reality. She couldn’t see him in the murky water, but together they kicked upward and broke the surface.

Annabeth gasped, grateful for the air, no matter how sulphurous. The water swirled around them, and she realized Percy was creating a whirlpool to buoy them up.

“Land,” she croaked. “Go sideways.”

Percy looked near dead with exhaustion. Usually water reinvigorated him, but not this water. Controlling it must have taken every bit of his strength. The whirlpool began to dissipate. Annabeth hooked one arm around his waist and struggled across the current. The river worked against her: thousands of weeping voices whispering in her ears, getting inside her brain.

_ Life is despair,  _ they said.  _ Everything is pointless, and then you die. _

“Not… pointless,” Percy murmured. His teeth chattered from the cold. “You’re here.”

“I am,” Annabeth said. She gripped him tightly. “I’m here. You’re here. We’re together.”

“Not getting away. Never again.”

“Yes,” Annabeth nodded. “Yes, we promised that. As long as we’re together, Percy.”

They started making progress against the current. Annabeth’s limbs felt like bags of wet sand, but Percy was helping her. She could see the dark line of the shore about a stone’s throw away. She used the last of her strength to reach the riverbank. Her feet dug into the sandy bottom. She and Percy hauled themselves ashore, shivering and gasping, and collapsed on the dark sand.

Annabeth wanted to curl up next to Percy and go to sleep. She wanted to shut her eyes, hope all of this was just a bad dream and wake up to find herself back on the  _ Argo II _ , safe with her friends (well… as safe as a demigod can ever be).

But, no. They were really in Tartarus. Again.

At their feet, the River Cocytus roared past, a flood of liquid wretchedness. The sulphurous air stung Annabeth’s lungs and prickled her skin. When she looked at her arms, she saw they were already covered with an angry rash. She tried to sit up and gasped in pain.

The beach wasn’t sand. They were sitting on a field of jagged black-glass chips, some of which were now embedded in Annabeth’s palms.

She mentally screamed at herself for forgetting about that. How could she have forgotten about this horrible, terrible place? Everything here was designed to hurt and kill, she  _ knew _ that.

Next to her, Percy coughed. “This place smells like my ex-stepfather.”

Annabeth took a deep breath. “Okay. We’re here. This is happening. You have the stuff I packed?”

Percy slid the backpack off his shoulders. The outside was dripping with water, but the stuff inside should be dry as long as Annabeth had prepared it right.

Inside the backpack there were a couple baggies of ambrosia and a canteen of nectar for emergencies. Hopefully those wouldn’t need to be used until they got into the Labyrinth. There was also the electronic map of the Labyrinth wrapped inside two Ziploc bags just in case as well as the device that would hopefully be able to direct them to Nico’s sensors.

Annabeth didn’t like all the hopefullys involved in the plan.

“You keep that for now,” she said, handing the bag back to Percy. “We can take turns wearing the backpack.”

“Okay,” Percy agreed.

Annabeth was relieved to have kept her dagger this time. For one, she didn’t have to wait until they met Damasen to get a weapon. For two, she loved her dagger and had missed it when she lost it the first time. It boosted her spirits to be able to grasp its hilt.

Annabeth glanced at Percy. He looked pretty bad. His dark hair was plastered across his forehead, his T-shirt ripped to shreds. Most worrisome of all, he was shivering and his lips were blue. He looked tired too which Annabeth knew was a side effect of the Achilles curse.

“We should keep moving or we’ll get hypothermia,” Annabeth said. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah,” Percy said. He struggled to his feet and yawned. “M’tired.”

“Achilles curse,” Annabeth said. “Come on. We just need to find a spot for you to rest a little. Do you think you can last until the shrine?”

“Maybe?”

Annabeth nodded. “Good. Let’s get moving.” She put her arm around his waist, though she wasn’t sure who was supporting whom. She scanned their surroundings. Above, she saw no sign of the tunnel they’d fallen down. She couldn’t even see the cavern roof—just blood-colored clouds floating in the hazy grey air. It was like staring through a thin mix of tomato soup and cement.

The black-glass beach stretched inland about fifty yards, then dropped off the edge of a cliff. From where she stood, Annabeth couldn’t see what was below, but the edge flickered with red light as if illuminated by huge fires.

Percy inhaled sharply. “Look.” He pointed downstream.

A hundred feet away, a familiar-looking bright green Italian car had crashed head-first into the sand. It looked just like the Fiat that had smashed into Arachne and sent her plummeting into the pit.

“I don’t suppose she died this time?” Annabeth tried.

Percy looked grim. “One way to find out.”

They stumbled towards the wreckage. One of the car’s tires had come off and was floating in a back-water eddy of the Cocytus. The pink rims were faded—probably from the river. The Fiat’s windows had shattered, sending brighter glass like frosting across the dark beach. Under the crushed hood lay the tattered, glistening remains of a giant silk cocoon—the trap that Annabeth had tricked Arachne into weaving. It was unmistakably empty. Slash marks in the sand made a trail downriver… as if something heavy, with multiple legs, had scuttled into the darkness.

“She’s alive,” Annabeth groaned. “Of course she is.”

“Don’t worry,” Percy muttered. “We can take her. At least we know we can still kill monsters down here.”

That was the one good side of having been to Tartarus before. The first time they had run into a monster, neither of them could be sure it would die down here. Now though, they knew they could kill monsters. It wasn’t much, but it helped.

Percy was still shivering. Annabeth wasn’t feeling any warmer either, despite the hot, sticky air and the glass cuts on her hands were still bleeding.

“We… we need to get to the Phlegethon,” she said.

“Mmm, fire water,” Percy said.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Time to find the River of Fire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. At the moment, it looks like there's going to be 81 maybe 82 chapters. I'm currently working on the last two chapters of HoH which are the two Percy chapters. But there will be at least 81 chapters. Which sounds like a lot, but like I said before, there's a lot of short chapters in this book.


	8. I Get to Be My Hero's Hero (Annabeth VIII)

CLIMBING DOWN THE CLIFFSIDE WAS MORE DAUNTING than Annabeth remembered it being. And she had a broken ankle the first time.

The cliff dropped more than eighty feet. At the bottom stretched a nightmarish version of the Grand Canyon: a river of fire cutting a path through a jagged obsidian crevasse, the glowing red current casting horrible shadows across the cliff faces.

Even from the top of the canyon, the heat was intense. The chill of the River Cocytus hadn’t left Annabeth’s bones, but now her face felt raw and sunburnt. Every breath took more effort, as if her chest were filled with styrofoam peanuts. The cuts on her hands bled more rather than less. She was waiting for the rope burns to come back with a vengeance, but so far the only damage her hands were sustaining was the cuts from the glass beach.

“Uh…” Percy examined the cliff. He pointed to a tiny fissure running diagonally from the edge to the bottom. “We can try that ledge there. Might be able to climb down.”

“Right. Yes.” Annabeth focused on that rather than the effects of being in Tartarus.

Blisters had started to form on their arms from exposure to the Tartarus air. The whole environment was about as healthy as a nuclear blast zone. They needed to get to the Phlegethon before Tartarus had the chance to kill them.

Percy went first. The ledge was barely wide enough to allow a toehold. Their hands clawed for any crack in the glassy rock. Annabeth had ripped off the sleeves of her T-shirt and used the cloth to wrap her bloody palms, but her fingers were still slippery and weak. Her eyes stung with sweat. Her arms trembled. But, to her amazement, they finally made it to the bottom of the cliff.

When she reached the ground, she stumbled. Percy caught her. She was alarmed by how feverish his skin felt. Red boils had erupted on his face, so he looked like a smallpox victim. Her own vision was blurry. Her throat felt blistered, and her stomach was clenched tighter than a fist.

_ We have to hurry, _ she thought.

“Just to the river,” she told Percy, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “We can do this.”

Talking was easier. Stating her action kept her calm and focused.

They staggered over slick glass ledges, around massive boulders, avoiding stalagmites that would’ve impaled them with any slip of the foot. Their tattered clothes steamed from the heat of the river, but they kept going until they crumpled to their knees at the banks of the Phlegethon.

“We have to drink,” Annabeth said.

“Obviously.” Percy swayed. His eyes were half-closed.

“You first,” she ordered.

Percy moved his hands sluggishly towards the fiery water. He cupped his hands and dipped them into the river. When he brought his hands out, they were carrying bright orangish-red liquid to his mouth. He spluttered and coughed. Annabeth held him as he trembled, the magical fire coursing through his system. His fever disappeared. His boils faded. He managed to sit up and smack his lips.

“Ugh,” he said. “Spicy, yet disgusting.”

Annabeth laughed weakly. “Yeah. Guess it’s my turn now.”

Once Annabeth was sure Percy was fine, she thrust her own hands into the river.

On first contact, the fire wasn’t painful. It felt cold, which probably meant it was so hot it was overloading Annabeth’s nerves. Before she could change her mind, she cupped the fiery liquid in her palms and raised it to her mouth.

Her sinuses filled with liquid flame. Her mouth felt like it was being deep-fried. Her eyes shed boiling tears, and every pore on her face popped. She collapsed, gagging and retching, her whole body shaking violently.

“Disgusting,” Percy agreed. He pulled her back from the river. “You good?”

The convulsions passed. Annabeth took a ragged breath and managed to sit up. She felt horribly weak and nauseous, but her next breath came more easily. The blisters on her arms were starting to fade.

“Fine,” she said.

“They should get a welcome mat in this place,” Percy commented, gazing around. “It might make visitors feel more welcome.”

“Welcome to Tartarus, try not to get eaten,” Annabeth said.

Percy snorted. “Exactly.” He tensed. “Draw your dagger,” he muttered.

Annabeth didn’t question him. She drew her dagger and looked around warily. “What is it? Monsters?”

“Arachne should be around here somewhere,” Percy said lowly. “I’d rather you be prepared.”

“You’re amazing,” Annabeth said, kissing his cheek.

Some boyfriends would have made sure they could be the hero of the story. Percy was automatically Annabeth’s hero by reminding her about the attack. Both of them were more than capable of defending themselves against that monster and if she came for Annabeth, Annabeth would be prepared to face her.

“So what’s the plan?” Percy asked.

Annabeth gazed up at the blood-colored clouds swirling in the grey haze. “Find the Doors, close them, and try not to die. Then we get out of here.”

“Sounds so easy when you say it like that.”

“We still have to get there first,” Annabeth pointed out. “Which means we need to travel downstream.”

Percy nodded, then his eyes locked onto something behind Annabeth. She spun as a massive dark shape hurtled down at her—a snarling, monstrous blob with spindly barbed legs and glinting eyes.

Annabeth didn’t have time to think. She heard the familiar  _ SHINK _ of Percy’s pen transforming into a sword and then a horrible wail echoed through the canyon.

Annabeth stood there as yellow dust—the remains of Arachne—rained around her like tree pollen.

Percy stooped down to scoop up Annabeth’s dagger from a pile of monster dust. He handed it back to her. “Nice shot.”

Annabeth sheathed her dagger with a shaky grin. “Couldn’t have done it without you warning me about the attack. Speaking of… don’t talk about it here.”

“Talk about what?” Percy frowned. “Monster attacks? Because I don’t think  _ not _ talking about them is going to do anything.”

“No, I mean…” she trailed off. “Don’t talk about the  _ other  _ time we were in the Underworld.”

Percy seemed to get it that time. A lot of people thought Percy was dumb, especially given his nickname, but Annabeth was pretty sure the only reason her boyfriend ever appeared slightly dumb was when he was standing next to her and all the other Athena kids. Even then, she still thought he was pretty smart.

“Got it,” Percy said, confirming what she thought. “Now, you were saying… downstream?”

Annabeth nodded. The yellow dust dissipated on the rocky shore, turning to steam.

“Yeah, downstream,” she said. “If the river comes from the upper levels of the Underworld, it should flow deeper into Tartarus—”

“So it leads into more dangerous territory,” Percy finished. “Which is where the Doors are. Lucky us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Percy actually is pretty smart. I think he's just smart in a different way than Annabeth. And I mean... of course everyone else is going to look dumb next to the kids whose mother is the goddess of wisdom. But it doesn't mean they actually are dumb.


	9. Guess Who's Back, Back Again (Annabeth IX)

THEY’D ONLY TRAVELLED a few hundred yards when Annabeth heard voices.

She hadn’t given the owner of one of the voices a second thought in years. She and Percy had taken care of Kelli straight away this time. Annabeth hoped that heading to Tartarus early might have curbed Kelli’s vendetta, but that would be too good to be true.

Annabeth pulled Percy behind the nearest boulder, wedging herself so close against the riverbank that her shoes almost touched the river’s fire. On the other side, on the narrow path between the river and the cliffs, voices snarled, getting louder as they approached from upstream.

As the monsters got nearer, their voices didn’t change in tone. Their uneven footsteps—scrap, clump, scrap, clump—didn’t get any faster.

“Soon?” one of them asked in a raspy voice, as if she’d been gargling in the Phlegethon.

“Oh my gods!” said another voice.  _ Kelli. _ “You guys are totally annoying! I told you, it’s like three days from here.”

Percy gripped Annabeth’s wrist. He looked at her with alarm.

There was a chorus of growling and grumbling. The creatures—maybe half a dozen, Annabeth guessed—had paused just on the other side of the boulder, but still they gave no indication that they’d caught the demigods’ scent. Unfortunately, they probably had. At least, given Annabeth and Percy’s previous experience, she knew at some point the empousai had caught their scent since they laid a trap for them later.

“I wonder,” said a third voice, gravelly and ancient like the first, “if perhaps you do not know the way, young one.”

“Oh, shut your fang hole, Serephone,” said Kelli. “When’s the last time you escaped to the mortal world? I was there a couple of years ago. I know the way! Besides, I understand what we’re facing up there. You don’t have a clue!”

“The Earth Mother did not make you boss!” shrieked a fourth voice.

More hissing, scuffling and feral moans—like giant alley cats fighting. At last the one called Serephone yelled, “Enough!”

The scuffling died down.

“We will follow for now,” Serephone said. “But if you do not lead us well, if we find you have lied about the summons of Gaea—”

“I don’t lie!” snapped the mall girl. “Believe me, I’ve got good reason to get into this battle. I have some enemies to devour, and you’ll feast on the blood of heroes. Just leave one special morsel for me—the one named Percy Jackson.”

Percy tensed and Annabeth silently let out a string of curses. Of course Kelli still wanted Percy dead and probably Annabeth too.

“Believe me,” said the mall girl. “Gaea has called us, and we’re going to have so much fun. Before this war is over, mortals and demigods will tremble at the sound of my name—Kelli!”

Two years ago, at Percy’s freshman orientation, Percy and their friend Rachel Dare were supposed to have been attacked by two empousai disguised as cheerleaders. One of them was Kelli. Kelli would have survived until a few weeks later when Annabeth killed her in Daedalus’s workshop.  However, in this time, Percy and Annabeth had managed to lead the two empousai away from the school and they had taken care of the problem in a back alley, out of sight and quick and easy. Evidently, Kelli still had an issue with dying and being sent back to Tartarus.

The creatures shuffled off, their voices getting fainter. Annabeth crept to the edge of the boulder and risked a glimpse. Sure enough, five women staggered along on mismatched legs—mechanical bronze on the left, shaggy and cloven-hooved on the right. Their hair was made of fire, their skin as white as bone. Most of them wore tattered Ancient Greek dresses, except for the one in the lead, Kelli, who wore a burnt and torn blouse with a short pleated skirt… her cheerleader’s outfit.

Percy rose. “They’re heading for the Doors of Death,” he murmured. “Do we have to follow them?”

Annabeth would have liked to say no, but that would mean going out of their way to take a longer route, and a route they didn’t take the first time. Annabeth didn’t trust herself or Percy to remember exactly which way the Doors were either. If they could follow the empousai as far as last time…

“Yeah,” she said. “We need to follow them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth and Percy have a lot of short chapters, so I might end up posting all four of them at a time in the future. Depends on the lengths.
> 
> Also... I realized after I was more than halfway through this story that the PDF file for House of Hades that I was using was from the publisher of the England/Europe/British/UK (?) copy. Soooo there are going to be a couple discrepancies between American and British words. Such as honor and honour. Scepter and sceptre. Well, not those words in particular because I ctrl-f'ed those and changed them all, but... I'm sure I missed other words.
> 
> But on that note, I was so sure Rick flip flopped between Gaea and Gaia in his books, but no! Actually, the Disney Hyperion copies are all spelled Gaea and the Penguin copies are Gaia. I'm guessing this is another American vs British word spelling. But I was so sure it was Gaea in one book and Gaia in another. Apparently not. I have Disney Hyperion books and the all read Gaea, but the Penguin copy of House of Hades I used for this spells it Gaia. So yeah. In case anyone was wondering (or, you know, just outing myself as not knowing this random fact until now if y'all already knew this).


	10. I Have a Crazy Dream (Leo X)

LEO SPENT THE NIGHT WRESTLING with a forty-foot-tall Athena.

Ever since they’d brought the statue aboard, Leo had been obsessed with figuring out how it worked. He was sure it had primo powers. There had to be a secret switch or a pressure plate or something.

He was supposed to be sleeping, but he just couldn’t. Not after that big reveal from Nico, Magnus, and Alex.

Time travel? That was something he thought was impossible, even for Greek heroes, but apparently not.

He’d played it off as cool and everything, but if these dreams or visions or  _ memories _ were from the other timeline—from the future—that meant that these things actually had happened. Which meant that Leo’s dreams were memories from the future. Memories he wasn’t sure he wanted to know about.

To distract himself and keep himself busy, Leo spent hours crawling over the statue, which took up most of the lower deck. Athena’s feet stuck into the sick bay, so you had to squeeze past her ivory toes if you wanted some painkillers. Her body ran the length of the port corridor, her outstretched hand jutting into the engine room, offering the life-sized figure of Nike that stood in her palm, like,  _ Here, have some Victory! _ Athena’s serene face took up most of the aft pegasus stables, which were fortunately unoccupied. If Leo were a magic horse, he wouldn’t have wanted to live in a stall with an oversized goddess of wisdom staring at him.

The statue was wedged tight in the corridor, so Leo had to climb over the top and wriggle under her limbs, searching for levers and buttons.

As usual, he found nothing.

He’d done some research on the statue. He knew it was made from a hollow wooden frame covered in ivory and gold, which explained why it was so light. It was in pretty good shape, considering it was more than two thousand years old and had been pillaged from Athens, toted to Rome and secretly stored in a spider’s cavern for most of the past two millennia. Magic must’ve kept it intact, Leo figured, combined with really good craftsmanship.

Annabeth had said… well, he tried not to think about Annabeth. He still felt guilty about her and Percy falling into Tartarus. Even if it wasn’t his fault. Apparently they’d been planning to fall this whole time. But what if he hadn’t used the cookie? What if he’d saved it for this problem of trying to find a way to close the Doors? They could have avoided falling to Tartarus.

Still, moping around wasn’t going to get Percy and Annabeth back. He had to concentrate on fixing the problems he could fix.

Anyway, Annabeth had said the statue was the key to defeating Gaea. It could heal the rift between Greek and Roman demigods. Leo figured there had to be more to it than just symbolism. Maybe Athena’s eyes shot lasers, or the snake behind her shield could spit poison. Or maybe the smaller figure of Nike came to life and busted out some ninja moves.

He’d probably get a lot more answers out of asking Nico, but that kid scared Leo. Nico di Angelo was intimidating on his best days and downright terrifying on his worst days. Add into that him being from the future? Yeah, no thanks. Leo prefered to keep his head on his shoulders.

Besides, it was a lot more fun to think of all the cool stuff the statue might do if he had designed it, but the more he examined it, the more frustrated he got. The Athena Parthenos radiated magic. Even he could feel that.

But it didn’t seem to do anything except look impressive.

The ship careened to one side, taking evasive maneuvers. Leo resisted the urge to run to the helm. Jason, Piper and Frank were on duty with Hazel now. They could handle whatever was going on. Besides, Hazel had insisted on taking the wheel to guide them through the secret pass that the magic goddess had told her about.

Leo hoped Hazel was right about the long detour north. He didn’t trust this Hecate lady. He didn’t see why such a creepy goddess would suddenly decide to be helpful.

Of course, he didn’t trust magic in general. That’s why he was having so much trouble with the Athena Parthenos. It had no moving parts. Whatever it did, it apparently operated on pure sorcery… and Leo didn’t appreciate that. He wanted it to make sense, like a machine.

The only reason he wasn’t protesting this course of action was because the three future people weren’t protesting this course of action. Which had to mean that nothing horrible was going to happen.

_ Just like how nothing horrible happened in New Rome, _ a voice—probably his pessimistic conscience—reminded him.

That wasn’t exactly what he was looking for.

It didn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t they have tried to stop him from shooting on New Rome, consequences and people finding out they were from the future be damned! It would have been so helpful to have known what was going to happen and how to prevent it. Maybe the Greeks wouldn’t be at war with the Romans.

Okay. So maybe that would have been not so good if Octavian knew that two Greek demigods and two Norse demigods from the future were inside his camp. Stupid logic.

Finally he got too exhausted to think straight. He curled up with a blanket in the engine room and listened to the soothing hum of the generators. Buford the mechanical table sat in the corner in sleep mode, making little steamy snores:  _ Shhh, pfft, shh, pfft. _

Leo liked his quarters okay, but he felt safest here in the heart of the ship—in a room filled with mechanisms he knew how to control. Besides, maybe if he spent more time close to the Athena Parthenos, he would eventually soak in its secrets.

“It’s you or me, Big Lady,” he murmured as he pulled the blanket up to his chin. “You’re gonna cooperate eventually.”

He closed his eyes and slept. Unfortunately, that meant dreams.

* * *

He was on a beach with a beautiful girl who was way out of his league. So, yes, he was head-over-heels for her already. She had caramel hair that was braided over one shoulder, dark almond-shaped eyes, and a face that appeared to be timeless. She wore a white sleeveless Greek dress with a low circular neckline trimmed in gold.

“Run, hero,” she whispered urgently. “He is coming.”

“Uh, what?” Leo managed.

The girl rolled her eyes. “Are you always this annoying? I am trying to help you, yet—” she froze. “Go!”

Leo didn’t know why he was listening to this strange girl, but something in her voice spurred him into motion. He started down the beach, but turned back when it became clear the girl wasn’t coming with him.

He turned back. “Aren’t you coming?”

The girl gave him a sad look. “No. I cannot, hero. I must stay here. I cannot leave. But you must hurry. He is coming for you.”

“He? He who?” Leo asked. “Who’s coming for me?”

“Go!” the girl ordered.

“I’ll be back for you,” Leo promised. He took off running down the beach.

As he ran, the dunes of sand turned into piles of tools and projects littering his mother’s old workshop, where she’d died in a fire when Leo was eight. He wasn’t sure what was chasing him, but he sensed it closing fast—something large and dark and full of hate. He hoped whoever it was hadn’t gotten to the beautiful girl. He already felt guilty for leaving her behind.

He stumbled into workbenches, knocked over toolboxes and tripped on electrical cords. He spotted the exit and sprinted towards it, but a figure loomed in front of him—a woman in robes of dry swirling earth, her face covered in a veil of dust.

_ Where are you going, little hero?  _ Gaea asked.  _ Stay and meet my favourite son. _

Leo darted to the left, but the Earth Goddess’s laughter followed him.

_ The night your mother died, I warned you. I said the Fates would not allow me to kill you then. But now you have chosen your path. Your death is near, Leo Valdez. _

A blinding explosion forced its way to the forefront of Leo’s mind. A bronze dragon and a golden ball colliding in the sky.

He ran into a drafting table—his mother’s old workstation. The wall behind it was decorated with Leo’s crayon drawings. He sobbed in desperation and turned, but the thing pursuing him now stood in his path—a colossal being wrapped in shadows, its shape vaguely humanoid, its head almost scraping the ceiling twenty feet above.

Leo’s hands burst into flame. He blasted the giant, but the darkness consumed his fire. Leo reached for his tool belt. The pockets were sewn shut. He tried to speak—to say anything that would save his life—but he couldn’t make a sound, as if the air had been stolen from his lungs.

_ My son will not allow any fires tonight,  _ Gaea said from the depths of the warehouse.  _ He is the void that consumes all magic, the cold that consumes all fire, the silence that consumes all speech. _

Leo wanted to shout:  _ And I’m the dude that’s all out of here! _

His voice didn’t work, so he used his feet. He dashed to the right, ducking under the shadowy giant’s grasping hands, and burst through the nearest doorway.

Suddenly, he found himself at Camp Half-Blood, except the camp was in ruins. The cabins were charred husks. Burnt fields smouldered in the moonlight. The dining pavilion had collapsed into a pile of white rubble, and the Big House was on fire, its windows glowing like demon eyes.

Leo kept running, sure the shadow giant was still behind him.

He weaved around the bodies of Greek and Roman demigods. He wanted to check if they were alive. He wanted to help them. But somehow he knew he was running out of time.

He jogged towards the only living people he saw—a group of Romans standing at the volleyball pit. Two centurions leaned casually on their javelins, chatting with a tall skinny blond guy in a purple toga. Leo stumbled. It was that freak Octavian, the augur from Camp Jupiter, who was always screaming for war.

Octavian turned to face him, but he seemed to be in a trance. His features were slack, his eyes closed. When he spoke, it was in Gaea’s voice:  _ This cannot be prevented. The Romans move east from New York. They advance on your camp, and nothing can slow them down. _

Leo was tempted to punch Octavian in the face. Instead he kept running.

He climbed Half-Blood Hill. At the summit, lightning had splintered the giant pine tree. He faltered to a stop. The back of the hill was shorn away. Beyond it, the entire world was gone. Leo saw nothing but clouds far below—a rolling silver carpet under the dark sky.

A sharp voice said, “Well?”

Leo flinched.

At the shattered pine tree, a woman knelt at a cave entrance that had cracked open between the tree’s roots. The woman wasn’t Gaea. She looked more like a living Athena Parthenos, with the same golden robes and bare ivory arms. When she rose, Leo almost stumbled off the edge of the world.

Her face was regally beautiful, with high cheekbones, large dark eyes and braided liquorice- colored hair piled in a fancy Greek hairdo, set with a spiral of emeralds and diamonds so that it reminded Leo of a Christmas tree. Her expression radiated pure hatred. Her lip curled. Her nose wrinkled.

“The tinkerer god’s child,” she sneered. “You are no threat, but I suppose my vengeance must start somewhere. Make your choice.”

Leo tried to speak, but he was about to crawl out of his skin with panic. Between this hate queen and the giant chasing him, he had no idea what to do.

“He’ll be here soon,” the woman warned. “My dark friend will not give you the luxury of a choice. It’s the cliff or the cave, boy!”

Suddenly Leo understood what she meant. He was cornered. He could jump off the cliff, but that was suicide. Even if there was land under those clouds, he would die in the fall, or maybe he would just keep falling forever.

But the cave… He stared at the dark opening between the tree roots. It smelled of rot and death. He heard bodies shuffling inside, voices whispering in the shadows. The cave was the home of the dead. If he went down there, he would never come back.

“Yes,” the woman said. Around her neck hung a strange bronze-and-emerald pendant, like a circular labyrinth. Her eyes were so angry, Leo finally understood why  _ mad  _ was a word for  _ crazy _ . This lady had been driven nuts by hatred. “The House of Hades awaits. You will be the first puny rodent to die in my maze. You have only one chance to escape, Leo Valdez. Take it.” She gestured towards the cliff.

“You’re bonkers,” he managed.

That was the wrong thing to say. She seized his wrist. “Perhaps I should kill you now, before my dark friend arrives?”

Steps shook the hillside. The giant was coming, wrapped in shadows, huge and heavy and bent on murder.

“Have you heard of dying in a dream, boy?” the woman asked. “It is possible, at the hands of a sorceress!”

Leo’s arm started to smoke. The woman’s touch was acid. He tried to free himself, but her grip was like steel. He opened his mouth to scream. The massive shape of the giant loomed over him, obscured by layers of black smoke.

The giant raised his fist, and a voice cut through the dream.

“Leo!” Jason was shaking his shoulder. “Hey, man, why are you hugging Nike?”

Leo’s eyes fluttered open. His arms were wrapped around the human-sized statue in Athena’s hand. He must have been thrashing in his sleep. He clung to the victory goddess like he used to cling to his pillow when he had nightmares as a kid. (Man, that had been so embarrassing in the foster homes.)

He disentangled himself and sat up, rubbing his face.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “We were just cuddling. Um, what’s going on?”

Jason didn’t tease him. That’s one thing Leo appreciated about his friend. Jason’s ice-blue eyes were level and serious. The little scar on his mouth twitched like it always did when he had bad news to share.

“We made it through the mountains,” he said. “We’re almost to Bologna. You should join us in the mess hall. Nico has new information.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can safely say that there will be 83 chapters total in this story. Which is why this update is so late. I wanted to finish up the last couple chapters before posting this so I could tell you guys how many chapters.
> 
> Anyway, I didn't proofread this closely at all as I pasted it into the text box or whatever it's called. I'm like half-asleep, so if y'all see anything really messed up, please just let me know in the comments and I'll fix it tomorrow. I don't think there's anything wrong, but... you never know. This would probably be the one time there actually is something wrong because I have the luck of a demigod. Which is to say, my luck is not good.


	11. Please Tell Me Seventh Doesn't Mean Ghost (Leo XI)

LEO HAD DESIGNED the mess hall’s walls to show real-time scenes from Camp Half-Blood. At first he had thought that was a pretty awesome idea. Now he wasn’t so sure.

The scenes from back home—the campfire sing-alongs, dinners at the pavilion, volleyball games outside the Big House—just seemed to make his friends sad. The further they got from Long Island, the worse it got. The time zones kept changing, making Leo feel the distance every time he looked at the walls. Here in Italy the sun had just come up. Back at Camp Half-Blood it was the middle of the night. Torches sputtered at the cabin doorways. Moonlight glittered on the waves of Long Island Sound. The beach was covered in footprints, as if a big crowd had just left.

With a start, Leo realized that yesterday—last night, whatever—had been the Fourth of July. They’d missed Camp Half-Blood’s annual party at the beach with awesome fireworks prepared by Leo’s siblings in Cabin Nine. He decided not to mention that to the crew, but he hoped their buddies back home had had a good celebration. They needed something to keep their spirits up, too.

He remembered the images he’d seen in his dream—the camp in ruins, littered with bodies; Octavian standing at the volleyball pit, casually talking in Gaea’s voice.

He stared down at his eggs and bacon. He wished he could turn off the wall videos.

“So,” Jason said, “now that we’re here…”

He sat at the head of the table, kind of by default. Since they’d lost Annabeth, Jason had done his best to act as the group’s leader. Having been a praetor back at Camp Jupiter, he was probably used to that, but Leo could tell his friend was stressed. His eyes were more sunken than usual. His blond hair was uncharacteristically messy, like he’d forgotten to comb it.

Leo glanced at the others around the table. Hazel was bleary-eyed, too, but of course she’d been up all night guiding the ship through the mountains. Her curly cinnamon-colored hair was tied back in a bandanna, which gave her a commando look that Leo found kind of hot—and then immediately felt guilty about.

Next to her sat her boyfriend Frank Zhang, dressed in black workout pants and a Roman tourist T-shirt that said CIAO! (was that even a word?). Frank’s old centurion badge was pinned to his shirt, despite the fact that the demigods of the  _ Argo II  _ were now Public Enemies Numbers 1 through 7 back at Camp Jupiter. His grim expression just reinforced his unfortunate resemblance to a sumo wrestler.

On Hazel’s other side was her half-brother, Nico di Angelo. Dang, that kid gave Leo the freaky-deakies. He sat back in his leather aviator jacket, his black T-shirt and jeans, that wicked silver skull ring on his finger and the Stygian sword at his side. His tufts of black hair stuck up in curls like baby bat wings. His eyes were sad and kind of empty, as if he’d stared into the depths of Tartarus—which he had.

The two Norse demigods, Magnus and Alex, were there too. They had taken up defending the ship while Hazel navigated the  _ Argo II _ through Hecate’s passageway last night. Magnus’s sentient, magical sword Jack had clearly come out to play since the blonde haired boy was busy dozing off every other second while Alex gave a few yawns, but overall looked ready for another day of fighting monsters.

Naturally, Alex was dressed in pink and green. Leo had to wonder where all these outfits were coming from because there was no way the amount of pink and green outfit combos Alex wore actually existed. Today it was dark green jeans and a pink shirt with green designs. The one item not in Alex’s signature colors was the garrote that was acting as some sort of deadly belt.

Piper was the only demigod that was absent. She was taking her turn at the helm with Coach Hedge, their satyr chaperone.

Leo wished Piper were here. She had a way of calming things down with that Aphrodite charm of hers. After his dreams last night, Leo could use some calm.

On the other hand, it was probably good she was above deck chaperoning their chaperone. Now that they were in the ancient lands, they had to be constantly on guard. Leo was nervous about letting Coach Hedge fly solo. The satyr was a little trigger-happy, and the helm had plenty of bright, dangerous buttons that could cause the picturesque Italian villages below them to go  _ BOOM! _

Leo had zoned out so totally he didn’t realize Jason was still talking.

“—the House of Hades,” he was saying. “Nico? Anything you can tell us about what’s coming that we’ll face there?”

Nico nodded. “There’s not much, but Hecate’s path works. Originally, I would have communed with the dead to find out about the House of Hades, but I didn’t bother since I already know what to tell you.” He paused. “In ancient times, the House of Hades was a major site for Greek pilgrims. They would come to speak with the dead and honor their ancestors.”

Leo frowned. “Sounds like Día de los Muertos. My Aunt Rosa took that stuff seriously.”

He remembered being dragged by her to the local cemetery in Houston, where they’d clean up their relatives’ gravesites and put out offerings of lemonade, cookies and fresh marigolds. Aunt Rosa would force Leo to stay for a picnic, as if hanging out with dead people were good for his appetite.

“My abuelo used to take me to the cemetery with him,” Alex said, smiling wistfully.

Frank grunted. “Chinese have that, too—ancestor worship, sweeping the graves in the springtime.” He glanced at Leo. “Your Aunt Rosa would’ve got along with my grandmother.”

Leo had a terrifying image of his Aunt Rosa and some old Chinese woman in wrestlers’ outfits, whaling on each other with spiked clubs.

“Yeah,” Leo said. “I’m sure they would’ve been best buds.”

Nico cleared his throat. “A lot of cultures have seasonal traditions to honor the dead, but the House of Hades was open year round. Pilgrims could actually speak to the ghosts. In Greek, the place was called the Necromanteion, the Oracle of Death. You’d work your way through different levels of tunnels, leaving offerings and drinking special potions—”

“Special potions,” Leo muttered. “Yum.”

Jason flashed him a look like,  _ Dude, enough. _ “Nico, go on.”

“The pilgrims believed that each level of the temple brought you closer to the Underworld, until the dead would appear before you. If they were pleased with your offerings, they would answer your questions, maybe even tell you the future.”

Frank tapped his mug of hot chocolate. “And if the spirits weren’t pleased?”

“Some pilgrims found nothing,” Nico said. “Some went insane or died after leaving the temple. Others lost their way in the tunnels and were never seen again. Not that that’s what’s going to happen,” he added quickly.

“What  _ does _ happen?” Frank asked.

Nico shook his head. “Nope. Not telling. I’ll tell you all the factual information you want to hear, but I’m not scripting battles. We’re going to have to fight monsters, that’s a given, but when we fight them, it has to be  _ your _ instincts, not my future knowledge that guides you.”

Frank grunted. “Fair enough.”

“Anyway, at the end, we’re going to face the giant Hecate fought in the first war,” Nico continued. “The anti-Hecate. His name is Clytius.”

“Dark dude,” Leo guessed. “Wrapped in shadows.”

Hazel turned towards him, her gold eyes narrowing. “Leo, how did you know that?”

“Kind of had a dream.”

No one looked surprised. Most demigods had vivid nightmares about what was going on in the world.

His friends paid close attention as Leo explained. He tried not to look at the wall images of Camp Half-Blood as he described the place in ruins. He told them about the dark giant and the strange woman on Half-Blood Hill, offering him a multiple-choice death. He didn’t mention the girl at the beginning of his dream. That was something he wanted to keep to himself.

Jason pushed away his plate of pancakes. “So the giant is Clytius. He’ll be waiting for us, guarding the Doors of Death.”

Frank rolled up one of the pancakes and started munching—not a guy to let impending death stand in the way of a hearty breakfast. “And the woman in Leo’s dream?”

“She’s my problem.” Hazel passed a diamond between her fingers in a sleight of hand. “Hecate mentioned a formidable enemy in the House of Hades—a witch who couldn’t be defeated except by me, using magic.” She faltered. “Right?”

Nico rolled his eyes. “Gods, you guys still have  _ free will, _ you know? I’m not calling all the shots. But, yes, Hazel. You’re the one who has to face the witch.”

“Do you know magic?” Leo asked.

“Not yet,” Hazel said.

“But she will,” Nico said confidently.

“Ah.” Leo gave them a tight smile. “Any idea who she is?”

Hazel shook her head. “Only that she’s a powerful sorceress. And she won’t be easy to defeat.”

“I can’t tell you her name,” Nico said. “Names have power. If I tell you, that will alert her to our presence.”

“She already knows I’m on my way,” Leo pointed out.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know  _ where _ you are,” Alex said. “Dreams are… it’s hard to explain. Dreams are fluid. Clovis helped me learn a bit about navigating them. It’s easier for me since, well, I’m fluid too.”

“That’s what Clovis told me and Annabeth,” Jason recalled. “When Annabeth took me… she took me…” he trailed off. “I’m guessing Annabeth just wanted me to hear what Clovis had to say about the Greek and Roman gods. Nevermind. Anyway, Clovis said that dreams are fluid and that you can be in different places at once and change your identity.”

“Kind of,” Alex nodded. “But anyway, I wanted to learn because my mother contacted me once in a dream. I wanted to make sure Loki couldn’t find me through my dreams. You can’t do that. This sorceress can’t find us outside of a dream. Unless, of course, we say her name. So let’s not do that.”

“Okay,” Jason sighed. “Well, Clytius. How do we defeat him?”

“Hecate will help,” Nico said. “I can’t really tell you everything that happened and I don’t remember that day really well. I’m ADHD too, you know. Probably. Anyway, there was a lot going on and I only know my own part.” He cleared his throat. “But his weakness is fire. Hecate used her torches to set his hair on fire. He burned to death.”

Everybody looked at Leo.

“Oh,” he said. “Okay.”

Jason nodded encouragingly, like this was great news―like he expected Leo to walk up to a towering mass of darkness, shoot a few fireballs and solve all their problems. Leo didn’t want to bring him down, but he could still hear Gaea’s voice:  _ He is the void that consumes all magic, the cold that consumes all fire, the silence that consumes all speech. _

Leo was pretty sure it would take more than a few matches to set that giant ablaze.

“It’s a good start,” Jason insisted. “At least we know how to kill the giant. And this sorceress… well, if Hecate believes Hazel can defeat her, then so do I.”

Hazel dropped her eyes. “Now we just have to reach the House of Hades, battle our way through Gaea’s forces―”

“Plus a bunch of ghosts,” Nico added grimly. “The spirits in that temple may not be friendly. Will not be friendly,” he corrected.

“―and find the Doors of Death,” Hazel continued. “Assuming we can somehow arrive at the same time as Percy and Annabeth and rescue them.” She looked at Nico. “Will we arrive at the same time?”

Nico didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. “If we arrive the same time we did the first time and they arrive the same time they did the first time, it’s going to be the same time. They will close their side first, then we’ll close our side.”

“They’ll make it out though?” Frank said.

“I told you, last time Percy and Annabeth got out just fine,” Nico snapped. “I’m worried too, but they did this once before without a plan and they  _ chose _ to go in again. This time they have a plan. One way or another, they will make it out of that hell hole.”

Hazel looked appalled at Nico’s language.

“Alright, well, with this detour,” Leo said, “I’m estimating four or five days to arrive at Epirus, assuming no delays for, you know, monster attacks and stuff.”

Jason smiled sourly. “Yeah. Those never happen.”

Leo looked at Hazel. “Hecate told you that Gaea was planning her big Wake Up party on August first, right? The Feast of Whatever?”

“Spes,” Hazel said. “The goddess of hope.”

Jason turned his fork. “Theoretically, that leaves us enough time. It’s only July fifth. We should be able to close the Doors of Death, then find the giants’ HQ and stop them from waking Gaea before August first.”

They all looked at Nico who didn’t say a word.

“Theoretically,” Hazel said. “But I’m guessing we have a few setbacks?”

“A few,” Nico agreed.

Hazel sighed. “Okay. How do we make our way through the House of Hades without going insane or dying?”

“Barley,” Nico said. “Can we skip Venice?”

“Sorry, what?” Hazel asked.

“Nevermind,” Nico sighed. “I’ll explain later. On the way.”

Frank set down his pancake roll like it suddenly didn’t taste so good. “It’s July fifth. Oh, jeez, I hadn’t even thought of that…”

“Hey, man, it’s cool,” Leo said. “You’re Canadian, right? I didn’t expect you to get me an Independence Day present or anything… unless you wanted to.”

“It’s not that. My grandmother… she always told me that seven was an unlucky number. It was a ghost number. She didn’t like it when I told her there would be seven demigods on our quest. And July is the seventh month.”

“Yeah, but…” Leo tapped his fingers nervously on the table. He realized he was doing the Morse code for _ I love you, _ the way he used to do with his mom, which would have been pretty embarrassing if his friends understood Morse code. “But that’s just coincidence, right?”

Magnus chose that moment to let out an unbelievably loud snore that sent everyone except Alex jumping to their feet, weapons (breath mints from his tool belt in Leo’s case) drawn.

Once their heart rates settled down and everyone was seated again, Frank continued.

“Back in China,” Frank said, “in the old days, people called the seventh month the ghost month. That’s when the spirit world and the human world were closest. The living and the dead could go back and forth. Tell me it’s a coincidence we’re searching for the Doors of Death during the ghost month.”

No one spoke.

Leo wanted to think that an old Chinese belief couldn’t have anything to do with the Romans and the Greeks. Totally different, right? But Frank’s existence was proof that the cultures were tied together. The Zhang family went all the way back to Ancient Greece. They’d found their way through Rome and China and finally to Canada.

Also, Leo kept thinking about his meeting with the revenge goddess Nemesis at the Great Salt Lake. Nemesis had called him the seventh wheel, the odd man out on the quest. She didn’t mean seventh as in ghost, did she?

“Well, no one is going to die in the House of Hades,” Nico said. “Uh, knock on wood.” He gave the table a half-hearted rap with his knuckles.

“Well that’s reassuring,” Leo said sarcastically.

Jason pressed his hands against the arms of his chair. “Let’s focus on the things we can deal with. We’re getting close to Bologna. Maybe we’ll get more answers once we find these dwarves that Hecate told Hazel about.”

“About those dwarves,” Nico began nervously.

“Yeah?”

“Brace yourselves.”

“Brace ourselv―?”

The ship lurched as if it had hit an iceberg. Leo’s breakfast plate slid across the table. Magnus fell backwards out of his chair and banged his head against the sideboard. He collapsed on the floor, with a dozen magic goblets and platters crashing down on top of him.

“Magnus!” Alex yelped.

“M’okay,” a muffled voice responded.

“What―?” Frank tried to stand, but the ship pitched in the other direction. He stumbled into the table and went face-first into Leo’s plate of scrambled eggs.

“Look!” Jason pointed at the walls. The images of Camp Half-Blood were flickering and changing.

“Not possible,” Leo murmured.

No way those enchantments could show anything other than scenes from camp, but suddenly a huge, distorted face filled the entire port-side wall: crooked yellow teeth, a scraggly red beard, a warty nose and two mismatched eyes―one much larger and higher than the other. The face seemed to be trying to eat its way into the room.

The other walls flickered, showing scenes from above deck. Piper stood at the helm, but something was wrong. From the shoulders down she was wrapped in duct tape, her mouth gagged and her legs bound to the control console.

At the mainmast, Coach Hedge was similarly bound and gagged, while a bizarre-looking creature―a sort of gnome/chimpanzee combo with poor fashion sense―danced around him, doing the coach’s hair in tiny pigtails with pink rubber bands.

On the port-side wall, the huge ugly face receded so that Leo could see the entire creature―another gnome chimp, in even crazier clothes. This one began leaping around the deck, stuffing things into a burlap bag―Piper’s dagger, Leo’s Wii controllers. Then he prised the Archimedes sphere out of the command console.

“No!” Leo yelled.

“The Hel are those?” Alex shouted.

“Monkey!” Frank yelled.

“Not monkeys,” Hazel grumbled. “I think those are dwarfs.”

Nico winced. “Yeah. Those are the dwarves. Leo, you should probably follow them.”

“Follow―OF COURSE I’M GOING TO FOLLOW THEM!” Leo yelled. “They’re stealing my stuff!” He ran for the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it likely that Nico could know the exact time of the dwarf attack? No. But it's funnier if he does.
> 
> Again, the proofreading thingy (ah, so eloquent) from last chapter applies. I'm posting this and then I'm going to bed. Goodnight everyone!


	12. I Make Alex Feel Weird About Appreciating Art (Leo XII)

LEO WAS VAGUELY AWARE OF NICO SHOUTING, “Go! You have to follow them!”

As if Leo was going to let them get away with his stuff. He promised himself that after this was over, he would strangle Nico di Angelo. What kind of a warning was that? Brace yourselves for the dwarves that are going to steal your stuff in three, two, one.

Leo bounded up the steps, with Jason and Frank behind him.

The situation on deck was even worse than he’d feared.

Coach Hedge and Piper were struggling against their duct-tape bonds while one of the demon monkey dwarfs danced around the deck, picking up whatever wasn’t tied down and sticking it in his bag. He was maybe four feet tall, even shorter than Coach Hedge, with bowed legs and chimp-like feet, his clothes so loud they gave Leo vertigo. His green-plaid pants were pinned at the cuffs and held up with bright-red suspenders over a striped pink-and-black woman’s blouse. He wore half a dozen gold watches on each arm and a zebra-patterned cowboy hat with a price tag dangling from the brim. His skin was covered with patches of scraggly red fur, though ninety percent of his body hair seemed to be concentrated in his magnificent eyebrows.

Leo was just forming the thought  _ Where’s the other dwarf? _ when he heard a click behind him and realized he’d led his friends into a trap.

“Duck!” He hit the deck as the explosion blasted his eardrums.

_ Note to self,  _ Leo thought groggily. _ Do not leave boxes of magic grenades where dwarfs can reach them. _

At least he was alive. Leo had been experimenting with all sorts of weapons based on the Archimedes sphere that he’d recovered in Rome. He’d built grenades that could spray acid, fire, shrapnel or freshly buttered popcorn. (Hey, you never knew when you’d get hungry in battle.) Judging from the ringing in Leo’s ears, the dwarf had detonated the flash-bang grenade, which Leo had filled with a rare vial of Apollo’s music, pure liquid extract. It didn’t kill, but it left Leo feeling like he’d just done a belly flop off the deep end.

He tried to get up. His limbs were useless. Someone was tugging at his waist, maybe a friend trying to help him up? No. His friends didn’t smell like heavily perfumed monkey cages.

He managed to turn over. His vision was out of focus and tinted pink, like the world had been submerged in strawberry jelly. A grinning, grotesque face loomed over him. The brown-furred dwarf was dressed even worse than his friend, in a green bowler hat like a leprechaun’s, dangly diamond earrings and a white-and-black referee’s shirt. He showed off the prize he’d just stolen—Leo’s tool belt—then danced away.

Leo tried to grab him, but his fingers were numb. The dwarf frolicked over to the nearest ballista, which his red-furred friend was priming to launch.

The brown-furred dwarf jumped onto the projectile like it was a skateboard, and his friend shot him into the sky.

Red Fur pranced over to Coach Hedge. He gave the satyr a big smack on the cheek, then skipped to the rail. He bowed to Leo, doffing his zebra cowboy hat, and did a backflip over the side.

Leo managed to get up. Jason was already on his feet, stumbling and running into things. Frank had turned into a silverback gorilla (why, Leo wasn’t sure; maybe to commune with the monkey dwarfs?) but the flash grenade had hit him hard. He was sprawled on the deck with his tongue hanging out and his gorilla eyes rolled up in his head.

Hazel and Nico stumbled up onto the deck. Alex was balancing Magnus against her side.

“Piper!” Jason staggered to the helm. He pulled the gag out of her mouth.

“Don’t waste your time on me!” she said. “Go after them!”

At the mast, Coach Hedge mumbled, “HHHmmmmm hmmm!”

Leo figured that meant: “KILL THEM!” Easy translation, since most of the coach’s sentences involved the word kill.

“She’s right, you have to go,” Nico said. “Jason, you’ll have to fly Leo.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell us about these dwarves earlier?” Leo demanded.

Nico glared at him. “Because they have something  _ you _ need. Now go!”

Leo glanced at the control console. His Archimedes sphere was gone. He put his hand to his waist, where his tool belt should have been. His head started to clear, and his sense of outrage came to a boil.

Those dwarfs had attacked his ship. They’d stolen his most precious possessions.

Below him spread the city of Bologna—a jigsaw puzzle of red-tiled buildings in a valley hemmed in by green hills. Unless Leo could find the dwarfs somewhere in that maze of streets… Nope. Failure wasn’t an option. Neither was waiting for his friends to recover.

“Fine!” he snapped. “Jason, can you give me a lift?”

Jason nodded. “Sure. Uh, should we bring anyone else with us? Nico?”

Nico shook his head. “No. I’d just slow you down. Besides, I have the best medical knowledge out of all of us. Magnus is down, so I’ll need to heal him. Look, they’re getting away, there’s no time to argue about this.”

“I’ll go with you,” Alex volunteered. “But I’m not giving you a ride.”

“Great,” Leo said. “We’ve got some monkey dwarves to catch.”

* * *

Jason and Leo touched down in a big piazza lined with white marble government buildings and outdoor cafés. Bikes and Vespas clogged the surrounding streets, but the square itself was empty except for pigeons and a few old men drinking espressos.

None of the locals seemed to notice the huge Greek warship hovering over the piazza, nor the fact that Jason and Leo had just flown down—Jason wielding a gold sword, and Leo… well, Leo pretty much empty-handed.

Alex certainly hadn’t attempted to remain inconspicuous. A majestic bird of prey swooped down next to them, transforming into the green haired teen. She shook a few feathers out of her hair and brushed some off her clothes.

“Great. Where to?” she asked.

Leo growled. “If di Angelo would have told me…” he trailed off.

“Look, the ballista fired the first dwarf in that direction, I think,” Jason said, pointing across the piazza. “Come on.”

They waded through a lake of pigeons, then maneuvered down a side street of clothing stores and gelato shops. The sidewalks were lined with white columns covered in graffiti. A few panhandlers asked for change (Leo didn’t know Italian, but he got the message loud and clear).

He kept patting his waist, hoping his tool belt would magically reappear. It didn’t. He tried not to freak, but he’d come to depend on that belt for almost everything. He felt like somebody had stolen one of his hands.

“We’ll find it,” Jason promised.

Usually, Leo would have felt reassured. Jason had a talent for staying level-headed in a crisis, and he’d got Leo out of plenty of bad scrapes. Not today though. Today, all Leo could think about was how Nico di Angelo  _ knew _ about everything that was going to happen. He had  _ let _ the ship get attacked by the dwarves and now, Nico was gambling the whole crew’s success on Leo getting back his Archimedes sphere and whatever else they had to get.

He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered Nico thought he could do this or insulted that Nico didn’t share any of this information with him. Leo settled on undecided.

Jason grabbed Leo’s arm. “Check it out.”

Leo looked up. They’d arrived in a smaller piazza. Looming over them was a huge bronze statue of a buck-naked Neptune.

“Ah, jeez.” Leo averted his eyes. He really didn’t need to see a godly groin this early in the morning.

The sea god stood on a big marble column in the middle of a fountain that wasn’t working (which seemed kind of ironic). On either side of Neptune, little winged Cupid dudes were sitting, kind of chillin’, like,  _ What’s up? _ Neptune himself (avoid the groin) was throwing his hip to one side in an Elvis Presley move. He gripped his trident loosely in his right hand and stretched his left hand out like he was blessing Leo, or possibly attempting to levitate him.

“Ooooo, bronze statue,” Alex said, nodding appreciatively. “You don’t see many of those. Usually, they’re marble. Unless this isn’t an original,” she mused.

Leo raised his eyebrows.

“What?” she asked. “I’m an artist. Can’t I appreciate the art?”

“Not Percy’s naked dad,” Leo grumbled.

Alex made a face. “Well, when you put it like  _ that _ , now I feel weird.”

“I don’t suppose this is a clue?” Leo sighed.

Jason frowned. “Maybe, maybe not. There are statues of the gods all over the place in Italy. I’d just feel better if we ran across Jupiter. Or Minerva. Anybody but Neptune, really.”

Leo climbed into the dry fountain. He put his hand on the statue’s pedestal, and a rush of impressions surged through his fingertips. He sensed Celestial bronze gears, magical levers, springs and pistons.

“It’s mechanical,” he said. “Maybe a doorway to the dwarfs’ secret lair?”

“Ooooo!” shrieked a nearby voice. “Secret lair?”

“I want a secret lair!” yelled another voice from above.

Alex’s garrote was in her hands fast as a whip. Jason stepped back, his sword ready. Leo almost got whiplash trying to look in two places at once.

The red-furred dwarf in the cowboy hat was sitting about thirty feet away at the nearest café table, sipping an espresso held by his monkey-like foot. The brown-furred dwarf in the green bowler was perched on the marble pedestal at Neptune’s feet, just above Leo’s head.

“If we had a secret lair,” said Red Fur, “I would want a firehouse pole.”

“And a waterslide!” said Brown Fur, who was pulling random tools out of Leo’s belt, tossing aside wrenches, hammers and staple guns.

“Stop that!” Leo tried to grab the dwarf’s feet, but he couldn’t reach the top of the pedestal.

“Too short?” Brown Fur sympathized.

“You’re calling me short?”

Alex hooked her garrote over Neptune’s trident and launched herself up onto the pedestal.

Brown Fur yelped and scurried higher up on the statue. He clung to Neptune like he was catching a piggyback ride on the god’s back.

Leo gritted his teeth. “Give me my belt, you stupid—”

“Now, now!” said Brown Fur. “We haven’t even introduced ourselves. I’m Akmon. And my brother over there—”

“—is the handsome one!” The red-furred dwarf lifted his espresso. Judging from his dilated eyes and his maniacal grin, he didn’t need any more caffeine. “Passalos! Singer of songs! Drinker of coffee! Stealer of shiny stuff!”

“Please!” shrieked his brother, Akmon. “I steal much better than you.”

Passalos snorted. “Stealing naps, maybe!” He took out a knife—Piper’s knife—and started picking his teeth with it.

Alex made a face. “Give us back our stuff and  _ maybe _ we won’t kill you.”

Jason lunged at Passalos, but the red-furred dwarf was too quick. He sprang from his chair, bounced off Jason’s head, did a flip and landed next to Leo, his hairy arms around Leo’s waist.

“Save me?” the dwarf pleaded.

“Get off!” Leo tried to shove him away, but Passalos did a backwards somersault and landed out of reach. Leo’s pants promptly fell around his knees.

He stared at Passalos, who was now grinning and holding a small zigzaggy strip of metal. Somehow, the dwarf had stolen the zipper right off Leo’s pants.

“Give—stupid—zipper!” Leo stuttered, trying to shake his fist and hoist up his pants at the same time.

Alex started cackling from her perch on top of the pedestal.

“Eh, not shiny enough.” Passalos tossed it away.

Jason lunged with his sword. Passalos launched himself straight up and was suddenly sitting on the statue’s pedestal next to his brother.

“Tell me I don’t have moves,” Passalos boasted.

“Okay,” Akmon said. “You don’t have moves.”

“Bah!” Passalos said. “Give me the tool belt. I want to see.”

“No!” Akmon elbowed him away. “You got the knife and the shiny ball.”

“Yes, the shiny ball is nice.” Passalos took off his cowboy hat. Like a magician producing a rabbit, he pulled out the Archimedes sphere and began tinkering with the ancient bronze dials.

“Stop!” Leo yelled. “That’s a delicate machine.”

Jason came to his side and glared up at the dwarfs. “Who are you two, anyway?”

“The Kerkopes!” Akmon narrowed his eyes at Jason. “I bet you’re a son of Jupiter, eh? I can always tell.”

“Just like Black Bottom,” Passalos agreed.

“Black Bottom?” Leo resisted the urge to jump at the dwarfs’ feet again. He was sure Passalos was going to ruin the Archimedes sphere any second now.

“Yes, you know.” Akmon grinned. “Hercules. We called him Black Bottom because he used to go around without clothes. He got so tanned that his backside, well—”

“TMI, dudes,” Alex said, holding up a hand. “We do  _ not _ want to know that.”

Passalos frowned. “At least he had a sense of humor! He was going to kill us when we stole from him, but he let us go because he liked our jokes. Not like you three. Grumpy, grumpy!”

“Hey, I’ve got a sense of humor,” Leo snarled. “Give me back our stuff, and I’ll tell you a joke with a good punch line.”

“Nice try!” Akmon pulled a ratchet wrench from the tool belt and spun it like a noisemaker. “Oh, very nice! I’m definitely keeping this! Thanks, Blue Bottom!”

_ Blue Bottom? _

Leo glanced down. His pants had slipped around his ankles again, revealing his blue boxer shorts.

“That’s it!” he shouted. “My stuff. Now. Or I’ll show you how funny a flaming dwarf is.”

His hands caught fire.

“Now we’re talking.” Jason thrust his sword into the sky. Dark clouds began to gather over the piazza. Thunder boomed.

“Oh, scary!” Akmon shrieked.

“Yes,” Passalos agreed. “If only we had a secret lair to hide in.”

“Alas, this statue isn’t the doorway to a secret lair,” Akmon said. “It has a different purpose.”

Leo’s gut twisted. The fires died in his hands, and he realized something was very wrong. He yelled, “Trap!” and dived out of the fountain. Unfortunately, Jason was too busy summoning his storm.

Alex yelped and hopped down from the pedestal. She’d barely landed when the statue attacked.

Leo rolled on his back as five golden cords shot from the Neptune statue’s fingers. One barely missed Leo’s feet. The rest homed in on Jason and Alex, wrapping them like a rodeo calf and yanking them upside down. Alex shrunk into a tiny lizard and scampered away, towards Leo.

A bolt of lightning blasted the tines of Neptune’s trident, sending arcs of electricity up and down the statue, but the Kerkopes had already disappeared.

“Bravo!” Akmon applauded from a nearby café table. “You make a wonderful piñata, son of Jupiter!”

“Yes!” Passalos agreed. “Hercules hung us upside down once, you know. Oh, revenge is sweet!”

Leo summoned a fireball. He lobbed it at Passalos, who was trying to juggle two pigeons and the Archimedes sphere.

“Eek!” The dwarf jumped free of the explosion, dropping the sphere and letting the pigeons fly.

“Time to leave!” Akmon decided.

He tipped his bowler and sprang away, jumping from table to table. Passalos glanced at the Archimedes sphere, which had rolled between Leo’s feet.

Leo summoned another fireball. “Try me,” he snarled.

“Bye!” Passalos did a backflip and ran after his brother.

Leo scooped up the Archimedes sphere and ran over to Jason, who was still hanging upside down, thoroughly hog-tied except for his sword arm. He was trying to cut the cords with his gold blade but having no luck.

Alex resumed her normal human form.

“Hold on,” Leo said. “If I can find a release switch—”

“Just go!” Jason growled. “I’ll follow you when I get out of this.”

“But—”

“He’s right,” Alex said, grabbing Leo’s arm. “We have to follow them.”

The last thing Leo wanted was some alone time with the monkey dwarfs, but the Kerkopes were already disappearing around the far corner of the piazza. Leo and Alex left Jason hanging and ran after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is House of Hades, I thought I might mention that I have updated my timeline to go into detail about the events of House of Hades since I went from the fall at the end of MoA to July 5 and the conversation last chapter to rescuing Percy and Annabeth from Tartarus so now it shows things like the encounter with Sciron, Jason and Nico running into Cupid, Piper's victory over Khione, etc. I still have to work on adding BoO stuff and pretty much everything from ToA, MCGA, and KC, but I'm getting there.


	13. Alex Gives Me a Ride and Apparently That's Cheating (Leo XIII)

THE DWARFS DIDN’T TRY VERY HARD TO LOSE THEM, which made Leo suspicious. They stayed just at the edge of his vision, scampering over red-tiled rooftops, knocking over window boxes, whooping and hollering and leaving a trail of screws and nails from Leo’s tool belt—almost as if they wanted Leo and Alex to follow.

Leo jogged after them, cursing every time his pants fell down. He almost asked Alex if he could borrow her garrote to hold them up, but thought better of it.

They turned a corner and saw two ancient stone towers jutting into the sky, side by side, much taller than anything else in the neighborhood—maybe medieval watch-towers? They leaned in different directions like gear shifts on a race car. The Kerkopes scaled the tower on the right. When they reached the top, they climbed around the back and disappeared.

Had they gone inside? Leo could see some tiny windows at the top, covered with metal grates, but he doubted those would stop the dwarfs. He and Alex watched for a minute, but the Kerkopes didn’t reappear.

Which meant they had to get up there and look for them.

“So I know you said no more rides,” Leo began.

Alex groaned. “Of course. Gah, look, okay. I will fly you up, but first, we need a plan.”

“Don’t suppose di Angelo told you whatever it was that happened the first time?” Leo asked hopefully.

“Nope,” Alex said. “I wasn’t here then. I didn’t even know Magnus. I didn’t even know about the Greek and Roman gods. That didn’t happen for another… eight or nine months?”

“Great,” Leo muttered.

He scanned the neighbourhood, trying to think. Half a block down, a set of double glass doors opened and an old lady hobbled out, carrying plastic shopping bags.

A grocery store? Hmm…

Leo patted his pockets. To his amazement, he still had some euro notes from his time in Rome. Those stupid dwarfs had taken everything except his money.

“I have an idea,” Leo announced. “How do you feel about explosives?”

Alex looked scarily excited at the prospect of making an explosive. Leo made a mental note not to let her and Harley get within ten feet of each other. He loved his little brother, but the eight year-old’s enthusiasm for destruction was a tad bit much. Leo figured that if Harley ever met Alex, the world wouldn’t be around much longer.

“Wait here and keep an eye on the dwarves,” Leo said. He hiked up his zipperless pants and ran for the store.

Leo scoured the aisles, looking for things he could use. He didn’t know the Italian for  _ Hello, where are your dangerous chemicals, please? _ But that was probably just as well. He didn’t want to end up in an Italian jail.

Fortunately, he didn’t need to read labels. He could tell just from picking up a toothpaste tube whether it contained potassium nitrate. He found charcoal. He found sugar and baking soda. The store sold matches and bug spray and aluminium foil. Pretty much everything he needed, plus a laundry cord he could use as a belt. He added some Italian junk food to the basket, just to sort of disguise his more suspicious purchases, then dumped his stuff at the till. A wide-eyed checkout lady asked him some questions he didn’t understand, but he managed to pay, get a bag and race out.

“Still up there,” Alex told Leo as he raced past her and ducked into the nearest doorway.

“Good,” Leo said. “I’m going to need a few minutes to finish this.”

He started to work, summoning fire to dry out materials and do a little cooking that otherwise would have taken days to complete. Making his arsenal took just a few minutes—he was that good—but it felt like hours.

Jason didn’t show. Maybe he was still tangled at the Neptune fountain or scouring the streets looking for Leo and Alex. No one else from the ship came to help. Probably it was taking them a long time to get all those pink rubber bands out of Coach Hedge’s hair.

_ Or maybe di Angelo told them what he could have told me about the dwarves and they’re all laughing their heads off back on the ship, _ Leo thought.

“Okay, I’m all done,” Leo announced.

Alex looked over the makeshift weapons. “Uh, looks great?”

“Flash-bang,” Leo said, pointing to one of his creations. “I’m setting it off first, so close your eyes when I light it. The dwarves don’t know that, hopefully it will throw them off.”

Alex nodded. “I can do that.” She scowled. “I can also make you walk to the top.”

Leo’s face fell. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The corners of Alex’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. I’m kidding.” She turned into a giant eagle, and Leo had a violent flashback to that day in Charleston when Frank the giant eagle was giving him a lift and then dropped him.

Too late to back out now, Alex’s talons grabbed Leo’s shoulders and they shot into the air. Leo tried to ignore the feeling of only being suspended by his shoulders in the claws of a giant bird that was actually a demigod that could turn into animals at will.

They swooped in through a window at the top. The room they landed in was about the size of a broom closet, with barred windows on all four walls. Shoved into the corners were sacks of treasure, shiny goodies spilling all over the floor. Leo spotted Piper’s knife, an old leather-bound book, a few interesting-looking mechanical devices and enough gold to give Hazel’s horse a stomachache.

Alex shifted back human and looked around. “Geez, how many people have these dwarves robbed?” She glanced around suspiciously. “And  _ where _ are the dwarves?”

Leo blinked. He didn’t see the dwarves anywhere. Then he looked up. Akmon and Passalos were hanging upside down from the rafters by their chimp feet, playing antigravity poker. When they saw Leo, they threw their cards like confetti and broke out in applause.

“I told you he’d do it!” Akmon shrieked in delight.

“Not fair,” Passalos protested. “He cheated. The pink and green one can shapeshift.”

“He did it,” Akmon said stubbornly.

Passalos sighed and took off one of his gold watches and handed it to his brother. “Fine.”

They both dropped to the floor. Akmon was wearing Leo’s tool belt—he was so close that Leo had to resist the urge to lunge for it.

Passalos straightened his cowboy hat and kicked open the grate on the nearest window. “What should we make him climb next, brother? The dome of San Luca? No shapeshifting,” he added, waggling his finger at Alex.

Leo wanted to throttle the dwarfs, but he forced a smile. “Oh, that sounds fun! But, before you guys go, you forgot something shiny.”

“Impossible!” Akmon scowled. “We were very thorough.”

“You sure?” Leo held up his grocery bag.

The dwarfs inched closer. As Leo had hoped, their curiosity was so strong that they couldn’t resist.

“Look.” Leo brought out his first weapon—a lump of dried chemicals wrapped in aluminium foil—and lit it with his hand. As he told Alex, the dwarves didn’t know enough to look away. They were staring right at it. Toothpaste, sugar and bug spray weren’t as good as Apollo’s music, but they made a pretty decent flash-bang.

The Kerkopes wailed, clawing at their eyes. They stumbled towards the window, but Leo set off his homemade firecrackers—snapping them around the dwarfs’ bare feet to keep them off balance. Then, for good measure, Leo turned the dial on his Archimedes sphere, which unleashed a plume of foul white fog that filled the room.

Leo wasn’t bothered by smoke. Being immune to fire, he’d stood in smoky bonfires, endured dragon breath and cleaned out blazing forges plenty of times. While the dwarfs were hacking and wheezing, he grabbed his tool belt from Akmon, calmly summoned some bungee cords and tied up the dwarfs.

“My eyes!” Akmon coughed. “My tool belt!”

“My feet are on fire!” Passalos wailed. “Not shiny! Not shiny at all!”

“Dude,” Alex wheezed. “Little warning on the smoke?”

Leo flushed. He hadn’t considered that Alex might be bothered by the smoke. Luckily, she seemed to be doing better as the smoke dissipated.

Together, they made sure the Kerkopes were securely bound, then they dragged them into one corner and began rifling through their treasures. Leo retrieved Piper’s dagger, a few of his prototype grenades, and a dozen other odds and ends the dwarves had taken from the  _ Argo II _ . Alex didn’t pick up anything in particular, but she did examine a few objects.

“Please!” Akmon wailed. “Don’t take our shinies!”

"We’ll make you a deal!" Passalos suggested. "We’ll cut you in for ten percent if you let us go!"

“Afraid not,” Leo muttered. “It’s all mine now.”

“Twenty percent!”

Just then, thunder boomed overhead. Lightning flashed, and the bars on the nearest window burst into sizzling, melted stubs of iron. Jason flew in like Peter Pan, electricity sparking around him and his gold sword steaming.

Leo whistled appreciatively. “Man, you just wasted an awesome entrance.”

Jason frowned. He noticed the hog-tied Kerkopes. “What the—”

“We tied them up,” Leo said. “How’d you find us?”

“Uh, the smoke,” Jason managed. “And I heard popping noises. Were you having a gunfight in here?”

“Absolutely,” Alex said.

Leo snorted. He tossed Piper’s dagger to Jason, then kept rummaging through the bags of dwarf shinies. He remembered what Hazel had said about finding a treasure that would help them with the quest, but he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. There were coins, gold nuggets, jewellery, paper clips, foil wrappers, cufflinks.

He kept coming back to a couple of things that didn’t seem to belong. One was an old bronze navigation device, like an astrolabe from a ship. It was badly damaged and seemed to be missing some pieces, but Leo still found it fascinating.

“Take it!” Passalos offered. “Odysseus made it, you know! Take it and let us go.”

“Odysseus?” Jason asked. “Like, _the_ Odysseus?”

“Yes!” Passalos squeaked. “Made it when he was an old man in Ithaca. One of his last inventions, and we stole it!”

“How does it work?” Leo asked.

“Oh, it doesn’t,” Akmon said. “Something about a missing crystal?” He glanced at his brother for help.

“‘My biggest what-if’,” Passalos said. “‘Should’ve taken a crystal.’ That’s what he kept muttering in his sleep, the night we stole it.” Passalos shrugged. “No idea what he meant. But the shiny is yours! Can we go now?”

Leo wasn’t sure why he wanted the astrolabe. It was obviously broken, and he didn’t get the sense that this was what Hecate meant them to find. Still, he slipped it into one of his tool belt’s magic pockets.

“Biggest what-if?” Alex repeated. She looked between Leo and the dwarves.

Jason frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Alex waved it off. “Percy said something once. It just reminded me of that.”

Meanwhile, Leo had returned his attention to the other strange piece of loot—the leather-bound book. Its title was in gold leaf, in a language Leo couldn’t understand, but nothing else about the book seemed shiny. He didn’t figure the Kerkopes for big readers.

“What’s this?” He wagged it at the dwarfs, who were still teary-eyed from the smoke.

“Nothing!” Akmon said. “Just a book. It had a pretty gold cover, so we took it from him.”

“Him?” Leo asked.

Akmon and Passalos exchanged a nervous look.

“Minor god,” Passalos said. “In Venice. Really, it’s nothing.”

“Venice.” Jason frowned at Leo. “Isn’t that where we’re supposed to go next?”

“Guess we know why Nico wanted you to go after the dwarves,” Alex said, looking at Leo.

“Yeah.” Leo examined the book. He couldn’t read the text, but it had lots of illustrations: scythes, different plants, a picture of the sun, a team of oxen pulling a cart. He didn’t see how any of that was important, but if the book had been stolen from a minor god in Venice—the next place Hecate had told them to visit—then this had to be what they were looking for.

“Where exactly can we find this minor god?” Leo asked.

“No!” Akmon shrieked. “You can’t take it back to him! If he finds out we stole it—”

“He’ll destroy you,” Jason guessed. “Which is what we’ll do if you don’t tell us, and we’re a lot closer.” He pressed the point of his sword against Akmon’s furry throat.

“Okay, okay!” the dwarf shrieked. “La Casa Nera! Calle Frezzeria!”

“Is that an address?” Leo asked.

“The Black House,” Alex translated. “Calle Frezzeria is the street.”

“You speak Italian?” Leo demanded.

Alex rolled her eyes. “I speak Spanish. I’m fluent, and Spanish and Italian are similar enough to figure it out.”

“Please don’t tell him we stole it,” Passalos begged. “He isn’t nice at all!”

“Who is he?” Jason asked. “What god?”

“I—I can’t say,” Passalos stammered.

“You’d better,” Leo warned.

“Hey!” Alex said sharply. “We don’t need a name from them.”

Right. Because Nico di Angelo already  _ knew _ who the minor god was.

Jason lowered his sword. “What do we want to do with them? Send them to Tartarus?”

“Please, no!” Akmon wailed. “It might take us weeks to come back.”

“Assuming Gaea even lets us!” Passalos sniffled. “She controls the Doors of Death now. She’ll be very cross with us.”

Leo looked at the dwarfs. He’d fought lots of monsters before and never felt bad about dissolving them, but this was different. He had to admit he sort of admired these little guys. They played cool pranks and liked shiny things. Leo could relate. Besides, Percy and Annabeth were in Tartarus right now, hopefully still alive, trudging towards the Doors of Death. The idea of sending these twin monkey boys there to face the same nightmarish problem… well, it didn’t seem right.

He imagined Gaea laughing at his weakness—a demigod too softhearted to kill monsters. He remembered his dream about Camp Half-Blood in ruins, Greek and Roman bodies littering the fields. He remembered Octavian speaking with the Earth Goddess’s voice:  _ The Romans move east from New York. They advance on your camp, and nothing can slow them down. _

“Nothing can slow them down,” Leo mused. “I wonder…”

“What?” Jason asked.

Leo looked at the dwarfs. “I’ll make you a deal.”

Akmon’s eyes lit up. “Thirty percent?”

“We’ll leave you all your treasure,” Leo said, “except the stuff that belongs to us and the astrolabe and this book, which we’ll take back to the dude in Venice.”

“But he’ll destroy us!” Passalos wailed.

“We won’t say where we got it,” Leo promised. “And we won’t kill you. We’ll let you go free.”

“Uh, Leo…?” Jason asked nervously.

Akmon squealed with delight. “I knew you were as smart as Hercules! I will call you Black Bottom, the Sequel!”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Leo said. “But in return for us sparing your lives, you have to do something for us. I’m going to send you somewhere to steal from some people, harass them, make life hard for them any way you can. You have to follow my directions exactly. You have to swear on the River Styx.”

“We swear!” Passalos said. “Stealing from people is our speciality!”

“I love harassment!” Akmon agreed. “Where are we going?”

Leo grinned. “Ever heard of New York?”

Alex’s mad scientist cackle was an indication that she understood exactly what Leo’s plan was. It was a genuine reaction which made Leo feel better. There were still a few things that none of his time traveling companions knew. Still a few things that Leo could do that none of them would expect. Maybe Nico was right. They still had free-will. They could still make their own choices.

Leo relayed his orders to the Kerkopes and watched at the confused look on Jason’s face morphed into a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta get the astrolabe of course.
> 
> And I started... kinda writing, but mostly planning out Blood of Olympus. Upon which I noticed that it could have been a waaaaaaay thicker book if Rick really wanted to do that. Like, usually the chunks of chapters would cover one event like how this chunk of Leo chapters covered the dwarves. But in Blood of Olympus, there's a Leo chunk that covers Delos AND getting the physician's cure.
> 
> Anyway, I'm still kinda planning it out and adjusting some things. So that's fun.


	14. Remember Our Childhood Trauma? Yeah, Neither Do I (Percy XIV)

PERCY HAD TAKEN HIS GIRLFRIEND on some romantic walks before. This wasn’t one of them.

They followed the River Phlegethon, stumbling over the glassy black terrain, jumping crevices and hiding behind rocks whenever the vampire girls slowed in front of them. It was tricky to stay far enough back to avoid getting spotted but close enough to keep Kelli and her comrades in view through the dark hazy air. The heat from the river baked Percy’s skin. Every breath was like inhaling sulphur-scented fibreglass. When they needed a drink, the best they could do was sip some refreshing liquid fire.

Yep. Percy definitely knew how to show a girl a good time.

At least Annabeth’s various cuts and scrapes had faded. She’d tied her blonde hair back with a strip of denim torn from her jeans, and in the fiery light of the river her grey eyes flickered. Despite being beat-up, sooty and dressed like a homeless person, she looked great to Percy.

So what if they were in Tartarus again? So what if they stood a slim chance of surviving and escaping into the Labyrinth? So what if they would probably get lost in that maze? He was so glad that they were together he had the ridiculous urge to smile.

Physically, Percy felt better too, though his clothes looked like he’d been through a hurricane of broken glass. He was thirsty, hungry,  _ tired, _ and scared out of his mind, but he’d shaken off the hopeless cold of the River Cocytus. And as nasty as the firewater tasted, it kept him going.

Time was impossible to judge. They trudged along, following the river as it cut through the harsh landscape. Fortunately the empousai weren’t exactly speed walkers. They shuffled on their mismatched bronze and donkey legs, hissing and fighting with each other, apparently in no hurry to reach the Doors of Death.

That was annoying. Percy really just wanted to get to the Doors, cut the chains, and hightail it the Hades out of there ASANDP (as soon as not demigodly possible—non demigods got all the luck).

Once, the demons sped up in excitement and swarmed something that looked like a beached carcass on the riverbank. Percy couldn’t tell what it was—a fallen monster? An animal of some kind? The empousai attacked it with relish.

When the demons moved on, Percy and Annabeth reached the spot and found nothing left except a few splintered bones and glistening stains drying in the heat of the river. Percy had no doubt the empousai would devour demigods with the same gusto.

“Gah,” Percy said, wrinkling his nose. “Of all the things to avoid, couldn’t the empousai be it?”

“Our luck isn’t that good,” Annabeth sighed. “Come on. We need to keep an eye on them.”

As they walked, Percy thought about the first time he’d fought the empousa Kelli at Goode High School’s freshman orientation, when he and Rachel Elizabeth Dare got trapped in the band hall. Of course, this Kelli wouldn’t remember that. Neither would she remember the second fight in the Labyrinth or the third fight in Tartarus. She would remember the fourth time Percy fought her alongside Annabeth in an empty alley after the Goode High School freshman orientation.

The fact that this would be the fifth time fighting the cheerleader was severely depressing for Percy. No matter how hard he tried, there was just no escaping some fates.

“Remember the good old days when all we had to worry about was whether or not I’d make it to sixteen?” Percy asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Annabeth said. “Remember the actual good old days when we thought we could actually retire from this?”

“I loved those days,” Percy sighed. “You know, after this, we should take a gap year. Travel the world, be normal kids for once. No quests, no life threatening or world ending events.”

“Yeah, until the monsters attack.”

“I’m sure we could get Silena and Beckendorf to figure out how to make a deodorant or perfume or something that masks demigod smell.”

Annabeth managed a small smile. “You realize it would have to do the opposite of what deodorant is meant for, right? It would have to make us smell absolutely unbearable.”

“Eau de Smelly Gabe,” Percy joked. The smile faded quickly though. “Gods, I haven’t thought about Gabe in years.”

“He was a horrible person and you have Paul now,” Annabeth said sharply.

“Yeah,” Percy said, staring off into Tartarus. “I guess it’s strange. After every horrible thing I’ve been through, he’s just a blip in my memory. I was so scared and angry for  _ years _ and now… I haven’t spared him a thought.”

Annabeth grasped his hand. “I get it. My time on the run with Thalia and Luke… it seems like so long ago now. I don’t even remember what it was like to feel alone. My step-mom and I are okay and Matthew and Bobby adore me. Plus I’ve got you and Magnus and Alex. Even Nico and Will. It’s kind of terrifying. Such big events are…”

“Forgettable?” Percy suggested.

“Yeah.”

Percy didn’t really know what he would do if he passed Gabe on the streets. It was impossible, seeing as his ex-step-father was currently on display in a museum, but… Years ago, he probably would have glared and insulted Gabe. If Gabe tried to assault Percy, he’d probably fight back and not hold anything back. Now… now, he’d probably ignore him.

Annabeth would probably call that maturity, but it most likely had something to do with the fact that he just didn’t care.

After a few more miles, the empousai disappeared over a ridge. When Percy and Annabeth caught up, they found themselves at the edge of another massive cliff. The River Phlegethon spilled over the side in jagged tiers of fiery waterfalls. The demon ladies were picking their way down the cliff, jumping from ledge to ledge like mountain goats.

The landscape below them was a bleak ash-grey plain bristling with black trees, like insect hair. The ground was pocked with blisters. Every once in a while, a bubble would swell and burst, disgorging a monster like a larva from an egg.

Suddenly Percy wasn’t hungry anymore.

All the newly formed monsters were crawling and hobbling in the same direction—towards a bank of black fog that swallowed the horizon like a storm front. The Phlegethon flowed in the same direction until about halfway across the plain, where it met another river of black water—maybe the Cocytus? The two floods combined in a steaming, boiling cataract and flowed on as one towards the black fog.

The longer Percy looked into that storm of darkness, the less he wanted to go there. But the Doors of Death were in that direction. There wasn’t a choice.

He peered over the edge of the cliff.

“Wish we could fly,” he muttered. He glanced up at the demons flying around the blood-red clouds. “Well, maybe not. I don’t know, would they mind a little low soaring? Or we could fly up really high and then drop down next to the Doors like a couple of bada—”

Annabeth elbowed him. “Not happening. Just our luck, Zeus decides to strike you down even though we’re technically underground.”

Percy scowled. That sounded like something that would happen to him.

He peered over the edge of the cliff. He couldn’t see the empousai below them any more. They’d disappeared behind one of the ridges. Percy didn’t know if the vampires knew about his and Annabeth’s presence, but this was definitely a major red flag.

“Ladies first?” Percy said, gesturing to the cliff.

Annabeth gave him a dry look. “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of random question, but... I'm not sure if I was dreaming I read this or if I actually read this, but I swear I read this one Heroes of Olympus fic on AO3. Like an Avengers AU fic maybe? I dunno. It was the Avengers movie but with Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Leo, Piper, Frank, Hazel, maybe Nico too as characters in the Avengers. And I have been trying to find it, but I haven't found it yet. Though, it COULD be on ffn? I don't think so though. I'm 98% sure it was on AO3. Anyway, if anyone knows what I'm talking about... please let me know what this fic is called so I can find it?


	15. My Stomach Still Wants Those Dam Fries (Percy XV)

AS THEY STARTED DOWN THE CLIFF, Percy concentrated on the challenges at hand: keeping his footing, avoiding rockslides that would alert the empousai to their presence, and, of course, making sure he and Annabeth didn’t plummet to their deaths.

About halfway down the precipice they took a break to rest. They sat together on a ledge next to a roaring fiery waterfall. Percy put his arm around Annabeth and they leaned against each other. He wasn’t sure who was resting against who.

“You know, I thought we were going to hit a rock solid bottom or fall into the Lethe or something,” Annabeth said. “I thought, it would be just our luck to go in, confident about closing the Doors and then  _ boom. _ Memories gone.”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen,” Percy said. “Besides, I’m sure Bob could heal us if that happened.”

“We wouldn’t remember Bob if that happened.”

Percy frowned. “Well, it didn’t so we don’t need to worry about it.”

Bob the Titan… well, it would be easier if they could go through this without bringing him into Tartarus. Escaping the Underworld was much easier than escaping Tartarus. But they would need him.

This time though, Percy liked to think that he had a better relationship with Bob. He visited the Titan a few times, though he hadn’t been able to bring up the whole erased memories thing to Bob yet. That was something Percy wanted to do before the  _ arai _ came.

He gazed across the ashen plains. The other Titans were here in Tartarus, waiting for them at the Doors of Death. All except Kronos who he hadn’t given much thought to until now.

“Do you think he can sense it?”

Annabeth tilted her head. “Who? What?”

“Do you think… the Titan can sense us?” Percy said carefully. There was no point tipping off Tartarus about the time travel situation. “I mean, it’s his, you know…”

Annabeth’s gray eyes glanced around like she was checking for any Kronos particles floating around. “I don’t think so. It’s not even his… well, there’s a difference. Ready to keep moving?”

They struggled to their feet. The rest of the cliff looked impossible to descend—nothing more than a crosshatching of tiny ledges—but they kept climbing down.

Percy’s body went on autopilot. His fingers cramped. He felt blisters popping up on his ankles. He got shaky from hunger. He wondered if they would die of starvation, or if the firewater would keep them going until however long it took to find the entrance to the Labyrinth.

_ Keep climbing,  _ he told himself.

_ Cheeseburgers, _ his stomach replied.

_ Shut up, _ he thought.

_ With fries, _ his stomach complained.

A billion years later, with a dozen new blisters on his feet, Percy reached the bottom. He helped Annabeth down, and they collapsed on the ground.

Ahead of them stretched miles of wasteland, bubbling with monstrous larvae and big insect-hair trees. To their right, the Phlegethon split into branches that etched the plain, widening into a delta of smoke and fire. To the north, along the main route of the river, the ground was riddled with cave entrances. Here and there, spires of rock jutted up like exclamation points.

Percy ignored the warm soil. He tried not to think about the single vast membrane that made up the ground. He really tried hard not to focus on the little voice in the back of his head that said someone was watching them. No, not watching. Aware. Tartarus was aware of them. He hadn’t done anything to them yet, but that wouldn’t last long once they reached the Doors.

Annabeth stood, wiping soot from her face. She gazed towards the darkness on the horizon. “We’re going to be completely exposed, crossing this plain.”

About a hundred yards ahead of them, a blister burst on the ground. A monster clawed its way out… a glistening telkhine with slick fur, a seal-like body and stunted human limbs. It managed to crawl a few yards before something shot out of the nearest cave, so fast that Percy could only register a dark green reptilian head. The monster snatched the squealing telkhine in its jaws and dragged it into the darkness.

Reborn in Tartarus for two seconds, only to be eaten. Percy wondered if that telkhine would pop up in some other place in Tartarus, and how long it would take to reform.

He swallowed down the sour taste of firewater. “Oh, yeah. This’ll be fun.”

Annabeth helped him to his feet. He took one last look at the cliffs, but there was no going back. He would’ve given a thousand golden drachmas to have Frank Zhang with them right now—good old Frank, who always seemed to show up when needed and could turn into an eagle or a dragon to fly them across this stupid wasteland.

“Weapons out,” Percy murmured. “Or ready at least.”

Annabeth gripped her dagger. “What I wouldn’t give for the long reach of my sword,” she muttered.

They started walking, trying to avoid the cave entrances, sticking close to the bank of the river. They were just skirting one of the spires when a glint of movement caught Percy’s eye—something darting between the rocks to their right.

Percy grabbed Annabeth’s arm. “The empousai.” He drew his sword just as the empousai emerged from the rocks all around them—five of them forming a ring.

Kelli limped forward on her mismatched legs. Her fiery hair burned across her shoulders like a miniature Phlegethon waterfall. Her tattered cheerleader outfit was splattered with rusty-brown stains, and Percy was pretty sure they weren’t ketchup. She fixed him with her glowing red eyes and bared her fangs.

“Percy Jackson,” she cooed. “How awesome! I don’t even have to return to the mortal world to  destroy you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bringing back the dam joke for this chapter title.
> 
> And again, this chapters are so dam (haha) short, so have all four Percy chapters.


	16. I Do Not Die as I'm Told (Percy XVI)

PERCY WAS SERIOUSLY TIRED OF RUNNING INTO MONSTERS that wanted to kill him specifically.

“And your friend Annabeth is with you!” Kelli hissed with laughter. “Oh, yeah, I totally remember her.” Kelli touched her own sternum, where the tip of the knife had exited when Annabeth had—ironically—stabbed her in the back during the alley fight.

“Funny,” Annabeth said coldly. “I barely remember you. Oh wait. Weren’t you that cheerleader I killed years ago in a New York alley? That was hardly worth remembering. I’ve faced worse since then.”

Kelli snarled.

“So,” Percy interrupted loudly. “Guess you’re wondering what we’re doing in Tartarus.”

Kelli snickered. “Not really. I just want to kill you.”

“That’s too bad,” Annabeth said. “Because you have no idea what’s going on in the mortal world.”

The other empousai circled, watching Kelli for a cue to attack, but the ex-cheerleader only snarled, crouching out of reach of Percy’s sword.

“We know enough,” Kelli said. “Gaea has spoken.”

“Gaea has spoken, blah, blah, blah,” Annabeth said, waving it off. “Has she told you that the Greeks and the Romans have united?”

The empousai backed up nervously, hissing, “Romani.”

“Yeah, you bet Romani.” Percy bared his forearm and showed them the brand he’d got at Camp Jupiter—the SPQR mark, with the trident of Neptune. “You mix Greek and Roman, and you know what you get? You get BAM!”

He stomped his foot, and the empousai scrambled back. One fell off the boulder where she’d been perched. That made Percy feel good, but they recovered quickly and closed in again.

“Bold talk,” Kelli said, “for two demigods lost in Tartarus. Lower your sword, Percy Jackson, and I’ll kill you quickly. Believe me, there are worse ways to die down here.”

Percy’s mood darkened. “Oh, I know that. Believe me.”

“The empousai are servants of Hecate,” Annabeth said. “Hecate is on our side now. She has a cabin at Camp Half-Blood. Some of her demigod children are my friends. If you fight us, she’ll be angry. Will you still blindly follow Gaea’s orders?”

One of the other empousai growled. “Is this true, Kelli? Has our mistress made peace with Olympus?”

“Shut up, Serephone!” Kelli screeched. “Gods, you’re annoying!”

“I will not cross the Dark Lady.”

Annabeth got a steely glint in her eyes. “You should all follow Serephone. She’s older and wiser.”

“Yes!” Serephone shrieked. “Follow me!”

Kelli struck so fast, Percy didn’t have the chance to raise his sword. Fortunately, she didn’t attack him. Kelli lashed out at Serephone. For half a second, the two demons were a blur of slashing claws and fangs.

Then it was over. Kelli stood triumphant over a pile of dust. From her claws hung the tattered remains of Serephone’s dress.

“Any more issues?” Kelli snapped at her sisters. “Hecate is the goddess of the Mist! Her ways are mysterious. Who knows which side she truly favours? She is also the goddess of the crossroads, and she expects us to make our own choices. I choose the path that will bring us the most demigod blood! I choose Gaea!”

Her friends hissed in approval.

“Why?” Annabeth asked. “Why do you want to kill us so badly?”

Kelli glared at her. “For two years, I churned in the void,” she said. “Do you know how completely annoying it is to be vaporized, Annabeth Chase? Slowly reforming, fully conscious, in searing pain for months and years as your body regrows, then finally breaking the crust of this hellish place and clawing your way back to daylight? All become some little girl stabbed you in the back? I seek my revenge on every demigod that gets away from me.” Her baleful eyes held Annabeth’s. “Now, here you are. I wonder what happens if a demigod is killed in Tartarus. I doubt it’s ever happened before. Let’s find out.”

Percy sprang, slashing Riptide in a huge arc. He cut one of the demons in half, but Kelli dodged and charged Annabeth. The other two empousai launched themselves at Percy. One grabbed his sword arm. Her friend jumped on his back.

They were more annoying than anything since all that was torn was his shirt and all that they did was restrict his movements.

Meanwhile, Annabeth swiped at Kelli who ducked out of the way. She sprang at Annabeth, but Annabeth rolled to the side. She came up and lobbed a rock at Kelli’s nose.

Kelli wailed. Annabeth scooped up gravel and flung it in the empousa’s eyes. While she was incapacitated, Annabeth plunged her dagger into Kelli’s abdomen, turning the empousa to dust for the fourth time.

“Percy!” she yelled.

He was thrashing from side to side, trying to throw off his empousa hitch-hiker, but the vampire’s grip was strong. The second empousa held his arm, preventing him from using Riptide.

“Why won’t you die?” the empousa on his back screeched.

“Because!” Percy shouted. “Let. Go. Of. Me!”

The empousa holding his arm actually let go, but that was to fight off Annabeth who was coming at them with her dagger.

“Die, die, die!” the empousa on his back chanted, claws raking over his body.

Despite his arm being free, Percy couldn’t get a good swing at the monster. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other empousa lunge, raking her talons across Annabeth’s arm. Annabeth screamed and fell.

Percy stumbled in her direction. The vampire on his back tried to sink her teeth into his neck. She yowled in pain when her teeth failed to break Percy’s skin.

The Achilles Curse might have come with invincibility, but it did  _ not _ come with extra strength. Well, okay, it came with extra strength, but not the kind of strength it took to waddle towards your injured girlfriend as you gave an empousa a piggyback ride.

“Come on!” Percy complained. He struggled forward.

The empousa loomed over Annabeth.

Then a shadow fell across Percy. A deep war cry bellowed from somewhere above, echoing across the plains of Tartarus, and a Titan dropped onto the battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thought of Percy with the Achilles curse being unable to die, yet unable to fight off his attackers amuses me.
> 
> Also... I had to give Annabeth the satisfaction of killing Kelli. Again.


	17. Bob Cannot Heal Clothes (Percy XVII)

IF HE DIDN’T ALREADY KNOW IT WOULD HAPPEN, Percy would have thought he was hallucinating. It just seemed impossible that a huge silvery figure could drop out of the sky and stomp the empousa flat, trampling her into a mound of monster dust.

But that’s exactly what happened. The Titan was ten feet tall, with wild silver Einstein hair, pure silver eyes and muscular arms protruding from a ripped-up blue janitor’s uniform. In his hand was a massive push broom. His name tag, incredibly, read BOB.

The empousa on Percy’s back tried to run. Bob threw his broom like a massive boomerang (was there such a thing as a broomerang? Percy never got that answer the first time). It sliced through the vampire and returned to Bob’s hand.

“SWEEP!” The Titan grinned with delight and did a victory dance. “Sweep, sweep, sweep!”

“Bob!” Percy shouted.

Annabeth stared, mystified. “I will never understand how he knew.”

“Percy called me!” the janitor said happily. “Yes, he did.”

“Called you?” Annabeth repeated, cradling her arm.

The janitor frowned when he noticed Annabeth’s wounds. “Owie.”

Bob tapped Annabeth’s forearm and it mended instantly. Bob chuckled, pleased with himself, then bounded over to Percy and reached out to heal him, but stopped.

“You are not hurt,” Bob noted.

Percy looked at his shredded shirt. “Oh, yeah. Curse of Achilles. Don’t suppose your healing powers extend to healing clothes?”

Bob frowned. “No healing clothes. Just cuts and owies.”

“It’s good to see you again, Bob,” Percy said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit you last the eight months. Hera kidnapped me and stole my memory.”

“Nico told me,” Bob said. “Nico said Percy is gone away for a while because a mean goddess took him. But you are okay now!”

“I’m great,” Percy agreed. “I’m in Tartarus, but I’m great.”

“Yes,” Bob said, frowning. “This is not good place for you.” His face brightened. “But I will help. I heard my name. Upstairs in Hades’s palace, nobody calls for Bob unless there is a mess. Bob, sweep up these bones. Bob, mop up these tortured souls. Bob, a zombie exploded in the dining room. Then I heard my friend call!” The Titan beamed. “Percy said, Bob!”

He grabbed Percy’s arm and hoisted him to his feet.

“That’s awesome,” Percy said. “Seriously. But how did you—”

“Oh, time to talk later.” Bob’s expression turned serious. “We must go before they find you. They are coming. Yes, indeed.”

Percy glanced back the way they had come. “I don’t want to meet  _ they,  _ do I?” He scanned the horizon. He saw no approaching monsters—nothing but the stark grey wasteland.

“Nope,” Bob said. “But Bob knows a way. Come on, friends! We will have fun!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Bob!


	18. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde Argue in My Head (Frank XVIII)

FRANK WOKE UP AS A PYTHON, which puzzled him.

Changing into an animal wasn’t confusing. He did that all the time. But he had never changed from one animal to another in his sleep before. He was pretty sure he hadn’t dozed off as a snake. Usually, he slept like a dog.

He’d discovered that he got through the night much better if he curled up on his bunk in the shape of a bulldog. For whatever reason, his nightmares didn’t bother him as much. The constant screaming in his head almost disappeared.

He had no idea why he’d become a reticulated python, but it did explain his dream about slowly swallowing a cow. His jaw was still sore.

He braced himself and changed back to human form. Immediately, his splitting headache returned, along with the voices.

_ Fight them!  _ yelled Mars.  _ Take this ship! Defend Rome _ !

The voice of Ares shouted back:  _ Kill the Romans! Blood and death! Large guns! _

His father’s Roman and Greek personalities screamed back and forth in Frank’s mind with the usual soundtrack of battle noises—explosions, assault rifles, roaring jet engines—all throbbing like a subwoofer behind Frank’s eyes.

He sat up on his berth, dizzy with pain. As he did every morning, he took a deep breath and stared at the lamp on his desk—a tiny flame that burned night and day, fuelled by magic olive oil from the supply room.

Fire… Frank’s biggest fear. Keeping an open flame in his room terrified him, but it also helped him focus. The noise in his head faded into the background, allowing him to think. He’d got better at this, but for days he’d been almost worthless. As soon as the fighting broke out at Camp Jupiter, the war god’s two voices had started screaming non-stop. Ever since, Frank had been stumbling around in a daze, barely able to function. He’d acted like a fool, and he was sure his friends thought he’d lost his marbles.

He couldn’t tell them what was wrong. There was nothing they could do and, from listening to them talk, Frank was pretty sure they didn’t have the same problem with their godly parents yelling in their ears. Which was just his luck.

He needed to pull it together. He needed to prove his worth. Everyone else on the ship had already done that. Jason was the son of Jupiter and he had an arsenal of impressive son of the sky god powers. He knew how to wield them too. Not to mention, he wasn’t a bad swordsman. Piper had her voice and charm. In close combat, she was pretty good with her dagger. Leo could literally rain fire down on his enemies and without him, they’d be stuck not knowing how to run the ship. Hazel was working on mastering Mist manipulation.

Even Magnus and Alex who weren’t even supposed to be here had stepped up. Magnus could heal them in the blink of an eye and his talking sword Jack could take out enemies on command. Alex could shapeshift like Frank, but she could also use a clay cutter pretty well when needed. And he was pretty sure Alex didn’t have Ares and Mars screaming in her head all the time.

Then there was Nico di Angelo who could rattle off a list of what was going to happen next and what they all had to do to get through this.

Who needed a clumsy shapeshifter with angry war gods screaming in his head when there was all this talent around him. What had Frank done to compare to the others?

Annabeth had been kind to him. Even when he was so distracted he’d acted like a buffoon, Annabeth had been patient and helpful. While Ares screamed that Athena’s children couldn’t be trusted and Mars bellowed at him to kill all the Greeks, Frank had grown to respect Annabeth. Now that they were without her, Frank was the next best thing the group had to a military strategist. Or he should have been. With Nico knowing the future, it didn’t seem to matter about coming up with strategies. Why bother when someone already knew what worked?

He rose and got dressed. He tugged on some Levi’s and an army-green T-shirt, then reached for his favourite pullover before remembering he didn’t need it. The weather was too warm. More important, he didn’t need the pockets any more to protect the magical piece of firewood that controlled his life span. Hazel was keeping it safe for him.

Maybe that should have made him nervous. If the firewood burned, Frank died: end of story. But he trusted Hazel more than he trusted himself. Knowing she was safeguarding his big weakness made him feel better—like he’d fastened his seat belt for a high-speed chase.

He slung his bow and quiver over his shoulder. Immediately they morphed into a regular backpack. Frank loved that. He never would’ve known about the quiver’s camouflage power if Leo hadn’t figured it out for him.

_ Leo!  _ Mars raged.  _ He must die! _

_ Throttle him! _ Ares cried.  _ Throttle everyone! Who are we talking about again? _

The two began shouting at each other again, over the sound of bombs exploding in Frank’s skull. He steadied himself against the wall. For days, Frank had listened to those voices demanding Leo Valdez’s death.

After all, Leo had started the war with Camp Jupiter by firing a ballista into the Forum. Sure, he’d been possessed at the time, but still Mars demanded vengeance. Leo made things harder by constantly teasing Frank, and Ares demanded that Frank retaliate for every insult.

Frank kept the voices at bay, but it wasn’t easy.

On their trip across the Atlantic, Leo had said something that still stuck in Frank’s mind. When they’d learned that Gaea, the evil earth goddess, had put a bounty on their heads, Leo had wanted to know for how much.

_ I can understand not being as pricey as Jason or Percy, he’d said, but am I worth, like, two or three Franks? _

Just another one of Leo’s stupid jokes, but the comment hit a little too close to home. On the  _ Argo II, _ Frank definitely felt like the LVP—Least Valuable Player. Sure, he could turn into animals. So what? Alex could do that too.

Frank’s biggest claim to helpfulness so far had been changing into a weasel to escape from an underground workshop, and even that had been Leo’s idea. Frank was better known for the Giant Goldfish Fiasco in Atlanta and, just yesterday, for turning into a two-hundred-kilo gorilla only to get knocked senseless by a flash-bang grenade.

Leo hadn’t made any gorilla jokes at his expense yet. But it was only a matter of time.

_ Kill him! _

_ Torture him! Then kill him! _

The two sides of the war god seemed to be kicking and punching each other inside Frank’s head, using his sinuses as a wrestling mat.

_ Blood! Guns! _

_ Rome! War! _

_ Quiet down, _ Frank ordered.

Amazingly, the voices obeyed.

_ Okay, then, _ Frank thought.

Maybe he could finally get those annoying screaming mini-gods under control. Maybe today would be a good day.

That hope was shattered as soon as he climbed above deck.

* * *

“What are they?” Hazel asked.

The  _ Argo II _ was docked at a busy wharf. On one side stretched a shipping channel about half a kilometer wide. On the other spread the city of Venice—red-tiled roofs, metal church domes, steepled towers and sun-bleached buildings in all the colors of Valentine candy hearts—red, white, ochre, pink and orange.

Everywhere there were statues of lions—on top of pedestals, over doorways, on the porticoes of the largest buildings. There were so many, Frank figured the lion must be the city’s mascot.

Where streets should have been, green canals etched their way through the neighbourhoods, each one jammed with motorboats. Along the docks, the sidewalks were mobbed with tourists shopping at the T-shirt kiosks, overflowing from stores, and lounging across acres of outdoor café tables, like pods of sea lions. Frank had thought Rome was full of tourists. This place was insane.

Hazel and the rest of his friends weren’t paying attention to any of that, though. They had gathered at the starboard rail to stare at the dozens of weird shaggy monsters milling through the crowds.

Each monster was about the size of a cow, with a bowed back like a broken-down horse, matted grey fur, skinny legs and black cloven hooves. The creatures’ heads seemed much too heavy for their necks. Their long anteater-like snouts drooped to the ground. Their overgrown grey manes completely covered their eyes.

Frank watched as one of the creatures lumbered across the promenade, snuffling and licking the pavement with its long tongue. The tourists parted around it, unconcerned. A few even petted it. Frank wondered how the mortals could be so calm. Then the monster’s appearance flickered. For a moment it turned into an old, fat beagle.

Jason grunted. “The mortals think they’re stray dogs.”

“Or pets roaming around,” Piper said. “My dad shot a film in Venice once. I remember him telling me there were dogs everywhere. Venetians love dogs.”

Frank frowned. He kept forgetting that Piper’s dad was Tristan McLean, A-list movie star. She didn’t talk about him much. She seemed pretty down-to-earth for a kid raised in Hollywood. That was fine with Frank. The last thing they needed on this quest was paparazzi taking pictures of all Frank’s epic fails.

“But what are they?” he asked, repeating Hazel’s question. “They look like… starving, shaggy cows with sheepdog hair.”

“Katoblepones,” Nico said. “It means down-looker.”

Jason eyed Nico. “Do you know this because we found out in the future or because you actually know about these things? I’ve never heard of katoblepones.”

Nico gave him a faint smile. “Both I guess. I, ah, found out later when someone told us the name. Katobleps was one of the cards in a game I used to play.”

Frank blinked. “You played Mythomagic?”

Nico scowled. “Yes. Anyway, they have poison eyes and breath. Don’t look at their eyes. Leave their food alone. Do that, and they’ll leave  _ us _ alone.”

Alex squinted at the katoblepones. “Can’t we just… get rid of them?”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Coach Hedge nodded, pointing at Alex. “I always liked the Norse. Really violent people.”

“Um, what?”

“We should just aim the ballista and see what happens!” Coach said.

“Uh, no,” Leo said.

For once, Frank agreed with Leo. There were too many monsters. It would be impossible to target one without causing collateral damage to the crowds of tourists. Besides, if those creatures panicked and stampeded…

“Look, Nico says if we leave them alone, they’ll leave us alone,” Frank said. “We’ll just have to ignore them and hope they ignore us.” He glanced at Nico uncertainly. “They  _ will _ ignore us, right?”

The look on Nico’s face was not reassuring.

“So… so then we’ll find the owner of the book,” Frank continued, trying to sound confident. “Uh, what was the address?”

Leo pulled the leather-bound manual from underneath his arm. He’d slapped a sticky note on the cover with the address the dwarfs in Bologna had given him.

“La Casa Nera,” he read. “Calle Frezzeria.”

“The Black House,” Nico translated. “Calle Frezzeria is the street.”

“You speak Italian?” Frank asked.

Nico frowned. “Yes. I  _ am _ Italian.”

Thunder rumbled in the clear summer sky. They’d passed through some storms the night before. Frank had thought they were over, but now he wasn’t sure. The air felt as thick and warm as sauna steam.

Jason frowned at the horizon. “Maybe I should stay on board. Lots of venti in that storm last night. If they decide to attack the ship again…” He didn’t need to finish. They’d all had experiences with angry wind spirits. Jason was the only one who had much luck fighting them.

Coach Hedge grunted. “Well, I’m out, too. If you softhearted cupcakes are going to stroll through Venice without even whacking those furry animals on the head, forget it. I don’t like boring expeditions.”

“It’s okay, Coach.” Leo grinned. “We still have to repair the foremast. Then I need your help in the engine room. I’ve got an idea for a new installation.”

Frank didn’t like the gleam in Leo’s eye. Since Leo had found that Archimedes sphere, he’d been trying out a lot of ‘new installations’. Usually, they exploded or sent smoke billowing upstairs into Frank’s cabin.

“Well…” Piper shifted her feet. “Whoever goes should be good with animals. I, uh… I’ll admit I’m not great with cows.”

Frank figured there was a story behind that comment, but he decided not to ask.

“I’ll go,” he said.

He wasn’t sure why he volunteered—maybe because he was anxious to be useful for a change. Or maybe he didn’t want anyone beating him to the punch. _Animals? Frank can turn into animals! Send him!_

Leo patted him on shoulder and handed him the leather-bound book. “Awesome. If you pass a hardware store, could you get me some two-by-fours and a gallon of tar?”

“Leo,” Hazel chided, “it’s not a shopping trip.”

“I’ll go with Frank,” Nico offered.

Frank’s eyes started twitching. The war gods’ voices rose to a crescendo in his head:  _ Kill him! Graecus scum! _

_ No! I love Graecus scum! _

“Uh… you’re good with animals?” he asked.

Nico smiled without humor. “Actually, most animals hate me. They can sense death. But as you noticed, I speak Italian. There’s also a lot of restless spirits here. I can keep them at bay. Besides, I went with you last time.” His expression turned sour. “And I’m warning you now. Do  _ not _ mention anything about Hazel or I being children of the Underworld. If I get turned into a  _ stupid _ plant one more time, I might stab someone.”

The glint in Nico’s eyes told Frank that it was probably wise to listen to those directions. But why had Nico included Hazel?

“Hazel?” Frank asked. “What about Hazel?”

Nico looked at his sister and raised an eyebrow. “You want to come take a stroll around Venice with your brother and your boyfriend?”

Hazel’s cheeks turned pink. “If only to make sure you don’t kill Frank.”

“I would never,” Nico said.

Hazel waggled her finger. “Just know, I’ll remember this when  _ you _ start dating someone.”

Nico’s teasing smile faded. “Right.”

Frank didn’t know what that was about. He guessed something to do with the future, and he hoped that nothing bad had happened like Hazel dying again or even Nico’s possible crush or romantic interest dying.

“Well, you guys have fun,” Leo said.

“Are you going to need backup?” Magnus asked.

Nico glanced at Frank. It kinda made Frank uneasy the way Nico studied him.

“No,” Nico said. “No, I don’t think we’ll need any backup.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they've identified the katoblepones earlier and Nico's told Frank not to mention anything about Hades or Pluto. Will he avoid turning into corn? Who knows...
> 
> Also, I don't think it quite came across in this chapter, but the reason Nico's smile fades when Hazel says she'll remember this when he starts dating is because due to all the communication failures, Hazel either had no idea Nico had a boyfriend or she wasn't able to tease him because there was no way to communicate and traveling between camps was difficult.


	19. Nico Talks About His Past (Frank XIX)

FRANK MIGHT HAVE LIKED VENICE if it hadn’t been summertime and tourist season, and if the city wasn’t overrun with large hairy creatures. Between the rows of old houses and the canals, the stone pavements were already too narrow for the crowds jostling one another and stopping to take pictures.

The katoblepones made things worse. They shuffled around with their heads down, bumping into mortals and sniffing the ground. One seemed to find something it liked at the edge of a canal. It nibbled and licked at a crack between the stones until it dislodged some sort of greenish root. The monster sucked it up happily and shambled along.

“Like I said,” Nico warned, “avoid their food.”

“I guess they aren’t just plant-eaters then,” Frank said glumly.

Hazel slipped her hand into his. “It’ll be fine.”

Frank was so pleased to be holding her hand that the crowds and the heat and the monsters suddenly didn’t seem so bad. He felt needed—useful. Not that Hazel required his protection. Anybody who’d seen her charging on Arion with her sword drawn would know she could take care of herself. Still, Frank liked being next to her, imagining he was her bodyguard. If any of these monsters tried to hurt her, Frank would gladly turn into a rhinoceros and push them into the canal.

Could he do a rhino? Frank had never tried that before.

Nico stopped. “There.”

They’d turned onto a smaller street, leaving the canal behind. Ahead of them was a small plaza lined with five-storey buildings. The area was strangely deserted—as if the mortals could sense it wasn’t safe. In the middle of the cobblestone courtyard, a dozen shaggy cow creatures were sniffing around the mossy base of an old stone well.

“A lot of katoblepones in one place,” Frank said.

“Yeah, but look,” Nico said. “Past that archway.”

Nico’s eyes were either better than Frank’s or the son of Hades just knew where they had to go because of the future thing. Frank squinted. At the far end of the plaza, a stone archway carved with lions led into a narrow street. Just past the arch, one of the town houses was painted black—the only black building Frank had seen so far in Venice.

“La Casa Nera,” he guessed.

Hazel’s grip tightened on his fingers. “I don’t like that plaza. It feels… cold.”

Frank wasn’t sure what she meant. He was still sweating like crazy.

But Nico nodded. He studied the town-house windows, most of which were covered with wooden shutters. “You’re right, Hazel. This neighbourhood is filled with lemures.”

“Lemurs?” Frank asked nervously. “I’m guessing you don’t mean the furry little guys from Madagascar?”

“Angry ghosts,” Nico said. “Lemures go back to Roman times. They hang around a lot of Italian cities, but I’ve never felt so many in one place. My mom used to tell me stories about the ghosts of Venice.”

Frank wondered about Nico’s past. He seemed pretty okay with everything, considering he was from a completely different era. Then again, he’d had more time to come to terms with it considering this was the second time he was living through emerging in a new era. Frank caught Hazel’s eyes.  _ Go ahead, _ she seemed to be saying.

The sounds of assault rifles and atom bombs got louder in Frank’s head. Mars and Ares were trying to outsing each other with ‘Dixie’ and ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’. Frank did his best to push that aside.

“So your mom was from Venice?”

Nico glanced at him. “I keep forgetting we don’t know each other as well as… Yeah. She met Hades here back in the 1900s. Late 20s, I think. It’s hard to remember. Anyway, as World War Two got closer, she fled to the U.S. with my sister and me. Bianca, I mean. I don’t remember much about Italy, but I can still speak the language.”

Frank tried to think of a response.  _ Oh, that’s nice  _ didn’t seem to cut it. He was hanging out with not one but two demigods who’d been pulled out of time. They were both, technically, about seventy years older than he was.

“Must’ve been hard on your mom,” Frank said. “I guess we’ll do anything for someone we love.”

Hazel squeezed his hand appreciatively.

Nico paused for a second. “Yeah. I guess we will.”

Frank wasn’t sure what Nico was thinking. He had a hard time imagining Nico di Angelo acting out of love for anybody, except maybe Hazel and probably Bianca. Then again, Nico was currently running around trying to save the world by using his future knowledge. Frank couldn’t imagine going through all this twice. Nico was way braver than him.

“Well,” Hazel said slyly. “Is there anyone in particular?”

Nico raised his eyebrows. “You. Bianca. The rest of the Seven. Camp Half-Blood. Camp Jupiter. Contrary to what you might think, I don’t actually dislike you guys.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I do know what you meant and that,” Nico looked at Hazel, “is a conversation for another time when the fate of the world isn’t in the balance. Let’s go. I’ve already sent out the message that the lemures should stay away and ignore us.”

Hazel pursed her lips. “Yeah, okay.”

Halfway across the piazza, everything went wrong, but it had nothing to do with ghosts.

They were skirting the well in the middle of the square, trying to give the cow monsters some distance. It was slow going since the roots seemed to be trying to obscure the demigod’s path.

“What are these things?” Hazel mumbled.

Nico seemed to be repressing the urge to cut through the roots with his sword. “They like demigods. Just try not to—”

Hazel tripped. Frank caught her. Six or seven of the katoblepones turned to look at them. Frank glimpsed a glowing green eye under one’s mane, and instantly he was hit with a wave of nausea, the way he felt when he ate too much cheese or ice cream.

The creatures made deep throbbing sounds in their throats like angry foghorns.

“Nice cows,” Frank murmured. He put himself between his friends and the monsters. “Guys, I’m thinking we should back out of here slowly.”

“Too late,” Nico said. He stepped back. The roots snaked out in his direction, trying to follow. The tendrils got thicker, exuding a steamy green vapour that smelled of boiled cabbage.

Foghorn growls sounded and the katoblepones stamped their hooves. Frank understood animal behaviour well enough to get the message:  _ You are standing on our food. That makes you enemies. _

“Don’t look at their eyes,” Nico warned. “Remember what I said.”

“I’ll distract them. You two get to the house,” Frank said.

The creatures tensed, ready to attack.

“Run!"

* * *

As it turned out, Frank could not turn into a rhino, and he lost valuable time trying.

Nico and Hazel bolted for the side street. Frank stepped in front of the monsters, hoping to keep their attention. He yelled at the top of his lungs, imagining himself as a fearsome rhinoceros, but with Ares and Mars screaming in his head he couldn’t concentrate. He remained regular-old Frank.

Two of the cow monsters peeled off from the herd to chase Nico and Hazel.

“No!” Frank yelled after them. “Me! I’m the rhino!”

The rest of the herd surrounded Frank. They growled, emerald-green gas billowing from their nostrils. Frank stepped back to avoid the stuff, but the stench nearly knocked him over.

Okay, so not a rhino. Something else. Frank knew he had only seconds before the monsters trampled or poisoned him, but he couldn’t think. He couldn’t hold the image of any animal long enough to change form. Then he glanced up at one of the town-house balconies and saw a stone carving—the symbol of Venice.

The next instant, Frank was a full-grown lion. He roared in challenge, then sprang from the middle of the monster herd and landed eight meters away, on top of the old stone well.

The monsters growled in reply. Three of them sprang at once, but Frank was ready. His lion reflexes were built for speed in combat.

He slashed the first two monsters into dust with his claws, then sank his fangs into the third one’s throat and tossed it aside. There were seven left, plus the two chasing his friends. Not great odds, but Frank had to keep the bulk of the herd focused on him. He roared at the monsters, and they edged away. They outnumbered him, yes. But Frank was a top-of-the-chain predator. The herd monsters knew it. They had also just watched him send three of their friends to Tartarus.

He pressed his advantage and leaped off the well, still baring his fangs. The herd backed off. If he could just maneuver around them, then turn and run after his friends…

He was doing all right, until he took his first backwards step towards the arch. One of cows, either the bravest or the stupidest, took that as a sign of weakness. It charged and blasted Frank in the face with green gas.

He slashed the monster to dust, but the damage was already done. He forced himself not to breathe.

Regardless, he could feel the fur burning off his snout. His eyes stung. He staggered back, half-blind and dizzy, dimly aware of Nico screaming his name.

“Frank! Frank!”

He tried to focus. He was back in human form, retching and stumbling. His face felt like it was peeling off. In front of him, the green cloud of gas floated between him and the herd. The remaining cow monsters eyed him warily, probably wondering if Frank had any more tricks up his sleeve.

He glanced behind him. Under the stone arch, Nico di Angelo was holding his black Stygian iron sword, gesturing at Frank to hurry. At Nico’s feet, two puddles of darkness stained the ground—no doubt the remains of the cow monsters that had chased them.

Hazel was leaning against the wall behind her brother. Her face was green and she looked like she was coughing.

Frank ran towards them, forgetting about the monster herd. Hazel let out a honking cough.

“You okay?” Frank asked.

“Nico…” Hazel choked out. “I almost… got a facefull of smoke. He… pushed me. Just… choking. I’m fine.”

Frank was pretty sure choking was not fine, but at least she wasn’t dead.

“We need to get her back to the ship,” Frank said.

The cow monster herd prowled cautiously just beyond the archway. They bellowed their foghorn cries. From nearby streets, more monsters answered. Reinforcements would soon have the demigods surrounded.

“And do what?” Nico demanded. “Leave without the information we need? We can’t heal katobleps poison.”

“He’s right you know,” a voice behind them said. “You’re friends don’t know the cure.”

Frank spun round. Standing on the threshold of the Black House was a young man in jeans and a denim shirt. He had curly black hair and a friendly smile, though Frank doubted he was friendly. Probably he wasn’t even human.

At the moment, Frank didn’t care.

“Can you cure her?” he asked.

“Of course,” the man said. “But you’d better hurry inside. I think you’ve angered every katobleps in Venice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saved Hazel. Kind of.
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Now my family will FINALLY let me put up our Christmas decorations. Every year. Every. Year. "It's not even Thanksgiving yet! No Christmas music!" or "You can't touch the decorations until November 27th". I'm just trying to get in the holiday spirit. Let me play my Christmas music and put up the tree!


	20. Triptolemus is Ahead of His Time With the Online Courses (Frank XX)

THEY BARELY MADE IT INSIDE.

As soon as their host threw the bolts, the katoblepones bellowed and slammed into the door, making it shudder on its hinges.

“Oh, they can’t get in,” the man in denim promised. “You’re safe now!”

“Safe?” Frank demanded. “Hazel is choking on poison!”

Their host frowned as if he didn’t appreciate Frank ruining his good mood. “Yes, yes. Bring her this way.”

Frank and Nico supported Hazel between their shoulders and followed the man further into the building. Frank would have carried her himself, but Hazel insisted that she could still walk. Nico agreed with her, then wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders and told Frank to do the same.

Frank’s eyes still burned from the monster’s breath. His lungs felt like he’d inhaled a flaming cabbage. He didn’t know why the gas had affected him less than it had Hazel. Maybe she’d got more of it in her lungs. He would have given anything to change places if it meant saving her.

The voices of Mars and Ares yelled in his head, urging him to kill Nico and the man in denim and anyone else he could find, but Frank forced down the noise.

The house’s front room was some sort of greenhouse. The walls were lined with tables of plant trays under fluorescent lights. The air smelled of fertilizer solution. Maybe Venetians did their gardening inside, since they were surrounded by water instead of soil? Frank wasn’t sure, but he didn’t spend much time worrying about it.

The back room looked like a combination garage, college dorm and computer lab. Against the left wall glowed a bank of servers and laptops, their screensavers flashing pictures of ploughed fields and tractors. Against the right wall was a single bed, a messy desk and an open wardrobe filled with extra denim clothes and a stack of farm implements, like pitchforks and rakes.

The back wall was a huge garage door. Parked next to it was a red-and-gold chariot with an open carriage and a single axle, like the chariots Frank had raced at Camp Jupiter. Sprouting from the sides of the driver’s box were giant feathery wings. Wrapped around the rim of the left wheel, a spotted python snored loudly.

Frank hadn’t known that pythons could snore. He hoped he hadn’t done that himself in python form last night.

“Set your friend here,” said the man in denim.

The two boys helped Hazel onto the bed. Frank removed Hazel’s sword. She started coughing violently. Her complexion was even greener.

“Can you cure her?” Frank asked.

The man shrugged. “Possibly.”

“Possibly?” Frank had to use all his willpower not to throttle the guy.

“We can give you something you’ve been missing,” Nico bargained. “Frank, show him the book.”

Frank scowled, but he pulled the leather-bound book out of his backpack.

The man’s eyes lit up. “My almanac!” He reached for the book, but Frank pulled it back.

“Heal our friend,” Frank said. “Then you can have the book.”

The man frowned. “Very well.” He left the room and returned with a handful of herbs.

Frank watched as the god picked leaves and roots and crushed them in a mortar. He rolled a pill-sized ball of green goop and jogged to Hazel’s side. He placed the gunk ball under Hazel’s tongue.

Moments later, Hazel stopped coughing. The color returned to her face.

“What happened?” she mumbled.

“He healed you,” Frank said, gesturing to the man. “Uh, who are you?”

“Triptolemus,” the man said, bowing. “My friends call me Trip. Now. My almanac?”

Frank handed over the book.

Triptolemus grinned and seized the book. He thumbed through the pages and started bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Oh, this is fabulous! Where did you find it?”

“Um, Bologna. There were these—” Frank remembered that he wasn’t supposed to mention the dwarfs “—terrible monsters. We risked our lives, but we knew this was important to you.”

“Hmm?” Trip looked up from his book. He’d been happily reciting lines to himself—something about turnip-planting schedules. Frank wished that Ella the harpy were here. She would get along great with this guy.

“Well, thank you, young demigods,” Trip said. “But,” he eyed Nico and Hazel, “there’s something strange about you two. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” He tapped his chin. “Who did you say your parents were?”

“We didn’t,” Nico said flatly. “We need your help.”

Trip looked offended. “I did help. I healed your friend. You treat that with such hostility.”

Nico had a very pinched expression. “Sorry,” he said, not really sounding sorry at all. “Can you  _ please _ help us with something else?”

“Nico!” Hazel hissed.

“Can  _ you _ please tell me who your parents are?” Trip countered.

“Why should I?”

Trip waved a hand. Suddenly where Nico di Angelo had been standing was a potted plant about five feet tall, with drooping green leaves, tufts of silk, and half a dozen ripe yellow ears of corn.

“There,” Trip huffed, wagging his finger at the corn plant. “You should talk less and listen more. Now at least you have ears.”

Frank stumbled against the bed. “What did you—why—?”

Hazel reached for her sword. “Turn my brother back!”

“He should listen more, not be so bossy,” Trip said.

“Um, well, look,” Frank said. “We brought you the almanac. Risked our lives for it. Could you maybe turn Nico back to normal and—”

“I healed her,” Trip said, pointing to Hazel. “If you want my help with whatever and returning the boy to normal, you’re going to need to do something else.”

_ Kill him!  _ Mars screamed.

_ I love this guy!  _ Ares yelled back. _ Kill him anyway! _

Frank ignored the voices. He didn’t want to get turned into a plant.

“What do we have to do?” he asked.

Trip thought for a moment. “A snake. Get me a new snake.”

“A new snake?” Hazel repeated.

“Yes,” Trip nodded. “This Scythian king named Lynkos killed my right python!”

“Your… right python?”

Trip marched over to his winged chariot and hopped in. He pulled a lever, and the wings began to flap. The spotted python on the left wheel opened his eyes. He started to writhe, coiling around the axle like a spring. The chariot whirred into motion, but the right wheel stayed in place, so Triptolemus spun in circles, the chariot beating its wings and bouncing up and down like a defective merry-go-round.

“You see?” he said as he spun. “No good! Ever since I lost my right python, I haven’t been able to spread the word about farming—at least not in person. Now I have to resort to giving online courses.”

“What?” As soon as he said it, Frank was sorry he’d asked.

Trip hopped off the chariot while it was still spinning. The python slowed to a stop and went back to snoring. Trip jogged over to the line of computers. He tapped the keyboards and the screens woke up, displaying a website in maroon and gold, with a picture of a happy farmer in a toga and a farmer’s hat, standing with his bronze scythe in a field of wheat.

“Triptolemus Farming University!” he announced proudly. “In just six weeks, you can get your bachelor’s degree in the exciting and vibrant career of the future—farming!”

Frank felt a bead of sweat trickle down his cheek. He didn’t care about this crazy god or his snake-powered chariot or his online degree programme. But Nico was a corn plant. And he had a feeling that Hazel much preferred her brother as a human.

“So… so Hazel and I find a way to get you a new snake and then… you’ll fix Nico and give us the information Hecate told us you could give us?”

“Hecate?” Trip repeated, color draining from his face.

“She sent us here,” Hazel explained. “The goddess guided us to your almanac in Bologna,” she said. “She wanted us to return it to you, because… well, she must’ve known you had some knowledge that would help us get through the House of Hades in Epirus.”

Trip nodded slowly. “Yes. I see. I know why Hecate sent you to me. Very well. Go find a way to fix my chariot. If you succeed, I will do all you ask. If not—” He shrugged. “Best not to dwell on that.”

Hazel started forward, but Trip stopped her. “Oh no, dear. You’ll have to stay here. I still have questions and you’re still recovering from that blast.”

Frank and Hazel exchanged worried looks.

“Go,” Hazel said. “I’ll be fine. Just… be careful. The katoblepones are still out there.” She handed him her sword. “Take this. Just in case.”

Frank took it. He hesitated before heading for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Nico. You aren't getting out of becoming a corn plant.
> 
> Also... does anyone else get the feeling there's a little too much real world foreshadowing in these books? Due to a problem, a teacher must resort to online classes. Oh, and don't forget the nosoi in ToA and how Apollo says he took a year off and they caused the Black Death. Congrats, Rick. You predicted 2020.


	21. I Win a Snake (Frank XXI)

FRANK STUMBLED OUT OF THE BLACK HOUSE. The door shut behind him, and he collapsed against the wall, overcome with guilt. Fortunately the katoblepones had cleared off, or he might have just sat there and let them trample him. He deserved nothing better. He’d left Hazel inside at the mercy of a crazy farmer god.

_ Kill farmers! _ Ares screamed in his head.

_ Return to the legion and fight Greeks!  _ Mars said.  _ What are we doing here? _

_ Killing farmers! _ Ares screamed back.

“Shut up!” Frank yelled aloud. “Both of you!”

A couple of old ladies with shopping bags shuffled past. They gave Frank a strange look, muttered something in Italian and kept going.

Frank stared miserably at Hazel’s cavalry sword, lying at his feet next to his backpack. He could run back to the  _ Argo II _ and get Leo. Maybe Leo could fix the chariot without getting another snake.

But Frank somehow knew this wasn’t a problem for Leo. It was Frank’s task. He had to prove himself. Frank could turn himself into a python. When he’d woken up that morning as a giant snake, perhaps it had been a sign from the gods. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life turning the wheel of a farmer’s chariot, but if it meant saving Hazel and their friends…

No. There had to be another way.

_ Serpents, _ Frank thought.  _ Mars. _

Did his father have some connection to snakes? Mars’s sacred animal was the wild boar, not the serpent. Still, Frank was sure he’d heard something once…

He could think of only one person to ask. Reluctantly, he opened his mind to the voices of the war god.

_ I need a snake, _ he told them.  _ How? _

_ Ha, ha!  _ Ares screamed.  _ Yes, the serpent! _

_ Like that vile Cadmus, _ Mars said.  _ We punished him for killing our dragon! _

They both started yelling, until Frank thought his brain would split in half.

“Okay! Stop!”

The voices quieted.

“Cadmus,” Frank muttered. “Cadmus…”

The story came back to him. The demigod Cadmus had slain a dragon that happened to be a child of Ares. How Ares had ended up with a dragon for a son, Frank didn’t want to know, but as punishment for the dragon’s death Ares turned Cadmus into a snake.

“So you can turn your enemies into snakes,” Frank said. “That’s what I need. I need to find an enemy. Then I need you to turn him into a snake.”

_ You think I would do that for you?  _ Ares roared. _ You have not proven your worth! _

_ Only the greatest hero could ask such a boon, _ Mars said.  _ A hero like Romulus! _

_ Too Roman!  _ Ares shouted.  _ Diomedes! _

_ Never!  _ Mars shouted back.  _ That coward fell to Heracles! _

_ Horatius, then, _ Ares suggested.

Mars went silent. Frank sensed a grudging agreement.

“Horatius,” Frank said. “Fine. If that’s what it takes, I’ll prove I’m as good as Horatius. Uh… what did he do?”

Images flooded into Frank’s mind. He saw a lone warrior standing on a stone bridge, facing an entire army massed on the far side of the Tiber River.

Frank remembered the legend. Horatius, the Roman general, had single-handedly held off a horde of invaders, sacrificing himself on that bridge to keep the barbarians from crossing the Tiber. By giving his fellow Romans time to finish their defences, he’d saved the Republic.

_ Venice is overrun,  _ Mars said,  _ as Rome was about to be. Cleanse it! _

_ Destroy them all!  _ Ares said.  _ Put them to the sword! _

Frank pushed the voices to the back of his mind. He looked at his hands and was amazed they weren’t trembling. For the first time in days, his thoughts were clear. He knew exactly what he needed to do. He didn’t know how he would pull it off. The odds of dying were excellent, but he had to try. He strapped Hazel’s sword to his belt, morphed his backpack into a quiver and bow, and raced towards the piazza where he’d fought the cow monsters.

* * *

The plan had three phases: dangerous, really dangerous and insanely dangerous.

Frank stopped at the old stone well. No katoblepones in sight. He drew Hazel’s sword and used it to prise up some cobblestones, unearthing a big tangle of spiky roots. The tendrils unfurled, exuding their stinky green fumes as they crept towards Frank’s feet.

In the distance, a katobleps’s foghorn moan filled the air. Others joined in from all different directions. Frank wasn’t sure how the monsters could tell he was harvesting their favourite food—maybe they just had an excellent sense of smell.

He had to move fast now. He sliced off a long cluster of vines and laced them through one of his belt loops, trying to ignore the burning and itching in his hands. Soon he had a glowing, stinking lasso of poisonous weeds. Hooray.

The first few katoblepones lumbered into the piazza, bellowing in anger. Green eyes glowed under their manes. Their long snouts blew clouds of gas, like furry steam engines.

Frank nocked an arrow. He had a momentary pang of guilt. These were not the worst monsters he’d met. They were basically grazing animals that happened to be poisonous.

_ They almost killed Hazel, _ he reminded himself.  _ And now she and Nico are being held captive by a farmer god. _

He let the arrow fly. The nearest katobleps collapsed, crumbling to dust. He nocked a second arrow, but the rest of the herd was almost on top of him. More were charging into the square from the opposite direction.

Frank turned into a lion. He roared defiantly and leaped towards the archway, straight over the heads of the second herd. The two groups of katoblepones slammed into each other, but quickly recovered and ran after him. Frank hadn’t been sure the roots would still smell when he changed form. Usually his clothes and possessions just sort of melted into his animal shape, but apparently he still smelled like a yummy poison dinner. Each time he raced past a katobleps, it roared with outrage and joined the  _ Kill Frank! _ Parade.

He turned onto a larger street and pushed through the crowds of tourists. What the mortals saw, he had no idea—a cat being chased by a pack of dogs? People cursed Frank in about twelve different languages. Gelato cones went flying. A woman spilled a stack of carnival masks. One dude toppled into the canal.

When Frank glanced back, he had at least two dozen monsters on his tail, but he needed more. He needed all the monsters in Venice, and he had to keep the ones behind him enraged.

He found an open spot in the crowd and turned back into a human. He drew Hazel’s spatha—never his preferred weapon, but he was big enough and strong enough that the heavy cavalry sword didn’t bother him. In fact he was glad for the extra reach. He slashed the golden blade, destroying the first katobleps and letting the others bunch up in front of him.

He tried to avoid their eyes, but he could feel their gaze burning into him. He figured that if all these monsters breathed on him at once their combined noxious cloud would be enough to melt him into a puddle. The monsters crowded forward and slammed into one another.

Frank yelled, “You want my poison roots? Come and get them!”

He turned into a dolphin and jumped into the canal. He hoped katoblepones couldn’t swim. At the very least, they seemed reluctant to follow him in, and he couldn’t blame them. The canal was disgusting—smelly and salty and as warm as soup—but Frank forged through it, dodging gondolas and speedboats, pausing occasionally to chitter dolphin insults at the monsters who followed him on the sidewalks. When he reached the nearest gondola dock, Frank turned back into a human again, stabbed a few more katoblepones to keep them angry and took off running. So it went.

After a while, Frank fell into a kind of daze. He attracted more monsters, scattered more crowds of tourists and led his now massive following of katoblepones through the winding streets of the old city.

Whenever he needed a quick escape, he dived into a canal as a dolphin or turned into an eagle and soared overhead, but he never got too far ahead of his pursuers. Whenever he felt like the monsters might be losing interest, he stopped on a rooftop and drew his bow, picking off a few of the katoblepones in the centre of the herd. He shook his lasso of poison vines and insulted the monsters’ bad breath, stirring them into a fury. Then he continued the race.

He backtracked. He lost his way. Once he turned a corner and ran into the tail end of his own monster mob. He should have been exhausted, yet somehow he found the strength to keep going—which was good. The hardest part was yet to come.

He spotted a couple of bridges, but they didn’t look right. One was elevated and completely covered; no way could he get the monsters to funnel through it. Another was too crowded with tourists. Even if the monsters ignored the mortals, that noxious gas couldn’t be good for anyone to breathe. The bigger the monster herd got, the more mortals would get pushed aside, knocked into the water or trampled.

Finally Frank saw something that would work. Just ahead, past a big piazza, a wooden bridge spanned one of the widest canals. The bridge itself was a latticed arc of timber, like an old-fashioned roller coaster, about fifty meters long.

From above, in eagle form, Frank saw no monsters on the far side. Every katobleps in Venice seemed to have joined the herd and was pushing through the streets behind him as tourists screamed and scattered, maybe thinking they were caught in the midst of a stray dog stampede.

The bridge was empty of foot traffic. It was perfect.

Frank dropped like a stone and turned back to human form. He ran to the middle of the bridge—a natural choke point—and threw his bait of poisonous roots on the deck behind him.

As the front of the katobleps herd reached the base of the bridge, Frank drew Hazel’s golden spatha.

“Come on!” he yelled. “You want to know what Frank Zhang is worth? Come on!”

He realized he wasn’t just shouting at the monsters. He was venting weeks of fear, rage and resentment. The voices of Mars and Ares screamed right along with him.

The monsters charged. Frank’s vision turned red.

* * *

Later, he couldn’t remember the details clearly. He sliced through monsters until he was ankle-deep in yellow dust. Whenever he got overwhelmed and the clouds of gas began to choke him, he changed shape—became an elephant, a dragon, a lion—and each transformation seemed to clear his lungs, giving him a fresh burst of energy. His shape-shifting became so fluid, he could start an attack in human form with his sword and finish as a lion, raking his claws across a katobleps’s snout.

The monsters kicked with their hooves. They breathed noxious gas and glared straight at Frank with their poisonous eyes. He should have died. He should have been trampled. But somehow he stayed on his feet, unharmed, and unleashed a hurricane of violence.

He didn’t feel any sort of pleasure in this, but he didn’t hesitate, either. He stabbed one monster and beheaded another. He turned into a dragon and bit a katobleps in half, then changed into an elephant and trampled three at once under his feet. His vision was still tinted red, and he realized his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. He was actually glowing—surrounded by a rosy aura.

He didn’t understand why, but he kept fighting until there was only one monster left. Frank faced it with his sword drawn. He was out of breath, sweaty and caked in monster dust, but he was unharmed.

The katobleps snarled. It must not have been the smartest monster. Despite the fact that several hundred of its brethren had just died, it did not back down.

“Mars!” Frank yelled. “I’ve proven myself. Now I need a snake!”

Frank doubted anyone had ever shouted those words before. It was kind of a weird request. He got no answer from the skies. For once, the voices in his head were silent.

The katobleps lost patience. It launched itself at Frank and left him no choice. He slashed upward. As soon as his blade hit the monster, the katobleps disappeared in a flash of blood-red light. When Frank’s vision cleared, a mottled brown Burmese python was coiled at his feet.

“Well done,” said a familiar voice.

Standing a few feet away was his dad, Mars, wearing a red beret and olive fatigues with the insignia of the Italian Special Forces, an assault rifle slung over his shoulder. His face was hard and angular, his eyes covered with dark sunglasses.

“Father,” Frank managed.

He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. The terror started to catch up with him. He felt like sobbing, but he guessed that would not be a good idea in front of Mars.

“It’s natural to feel fear.” The war god’s voice was surprisingly warm, full of pride. “All great warriors are afraid. Only the stupid and the delusional are not. But you faced your fear, my son. You did what you had to do, like Horatius. This was your bridge, and you defended it.”

“I—” Frank wasn’t sure what to say. “I… I just needed a snake.”

A tiny smile tugged at Mars’s mouth. “Yes. And now you have one. Your bravery has united my forms, Greek and Roman, if only for a moment. Go. Save your friends. But hear me, Frank. Your greatest test is yet to come. When you face the armies of Gaea at Epirus, your leadership—”

Suddenly the god doubled over, clutching his head. His form flickered. His fatigues turned into a toga, then a biker’s jacket and jeans. His rifle changed into a sword and then a rocket launcher.

“Agony!” Mars bellowed. “Go! Hurry!”

Frank didn’t ask questions. Despite his exhaustion, he turned into a giant eagle, snatched up the python in his massive claws and launched himself into the air.

When he glanced back, a miniature mushroom cloud erupted from the middle of the bridge, rings of fire washing outwards, and a pair of voices—Mars and Ares—screamed, “Noooo!”

Frank wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he had no time to think about it. He flew over the city—now completely empty of monsters—and headed for the house of Triptolemus.

* * *

“You found one!” the farmer god exclaimed.

Frank ignored him. He stormed into La Casa Nera, dragging the python by its tail like a very strange Santa Claus bag, and dropped it in front of the god.

“Fix Nico,” Frank said. “Now.”

“Frank!” Hazel gasped.

Triptolemus crossed his arms. “How do I know the snake will work?”

Frank gritted his teeth. Since the explosion on the bridge, the voices of the war god had gone silent in his head, but he still felt their combined anger churning inside him. He felt physically different, too. Had Triptolemus got shorter?

“The snake is a gift from Mars,” Frank growled. “It will work.”

As if on cue, the Burmese python slithered over to the chariot and wrapped itself around the right wheel. The other snake woke up. The two serpents checked each other out, touching noses, then turned their wheels in unison. The chariot inched forward, its wings flapping.

“You see?” Frank said. “Now, change him back!”

Triptolemus tapped his chin. “Well, thank you for the snake, but I’m not sure I like your tone, demigod. Perhaps I’ll turn you into—”

Frank was faster. He lunged at Trip and slammed him into the wall, his fingers locked around the god’s throat. Hazel screamed.

“Think about your next words,” Frank warned, deadly calm. “Or, instead of beating my sword into a ploughshare, I will beat it into your head.”

Triptolemus gulped. “You know… I think I’ll fix your friend.”

“Swear it on the River Styx.”

“I swear it on the River Styx.”

Frank released him. Triptolemus touched his throat, as if making sure it was still there. He gave Frank a nervous smile and pointed at the corn plant.  _ BAM! _ Nico di Angelo appeared in an explosion of corn silk.

Nico looked around in a panic. “I—I had the weirdest nightmare about popcorn.” He looked at Frank. “Oh. You grew.”

“What?” Frank asked. “I don’t…” He looked down and realized what Nico meant. Triptolemus hadn’t got shorter. Frank was taller. His gut had shrunk. His chest seemed bulkier.

Frank had had growth spurts before. Once he’d woken up two centimeters taller than when he’d gone to sleep. But this was nuts. It was as if some of the dragon and lion had stayed with him when he’d turned back to human.

“Uh… I don’t…”

Triptolemus heaved a dramatic sigh. “Yes, obviously some sort of blessing from Mars. Congratulations, blah, blah, blah. Now, if we’re done here…?”

Frank glared at him. “We’re not done. How do we survive the House of Hades?”

The farm god raised his eyes to the ceiling, like,  _ Why me, Demeter? _

“Fine,” Trip said. “When you arrive at Epirus, you will be offered a chalice to drink from.”

“Offered by whom?” Nico asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Trip snapped. “Just know that it is filled with deadly poison.”

Hazel shuddered. “So you’re saying that we shouldn’t drink it.”

“No!” Trip said. “You must drink it, or you’ll never be able to make it through the temple. The poison connects you to the world of the dead, lets you pass into the lower levels. The secret to surviving is—” his eyes twinkled “—barley.”

Frank stared at him. “Barley.”

“In the front room, take some of my special barley. Make it into little cakes. Eat these before you step into the House of Hades. The barley will absorb the worst of the poison, so it will affect you, but not kill you. Good luck!” Triptolemus sprinted across the room and hopped in his chariot. “And, Frank Zhang, I forgive you! You’ve got spunk. If you ever come back to Venice, I’d love to have you as a student. You could get a degree in farming!”

“Yeah,” Frank muttered. “Thanks.”

The god pulled a lever on his chariot. The snake-wheels turned. The wings flapped. At the back of the room, the garage doors rolled open.

“Oh, to be mobile again!” Trip cried. “So many ignorant lands in need of my knowledge. I will teach them the glories of tilling, irrigation, fertilizing!” The chariot lifted off and zipped out of the house, Triptolemus shouting to the sky, “Away, my serpents! Away!”

“That,” Hazel said, “was very strange.”

“The glories of fertilizing.” Nico brushed some corn silk off his shoulder. “Can we get out of here now?”

Hazel put her hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Are you okay, really? I… I felt a lot of death. What did you do?”

Frank tried to hold it together. He scolded himself for feeling so weak. He could face an army of monsters, but as soon as Hazel showed him kindness he wanted to break down and cry. “Those katoblepones that poisoned you… I had to destroy them.” He looked at Nico. “You… you knew I had to do that, didn’t you?”

Nico looked away. “Yes. But I did try to save Hazel from them. Last time she got it worse.”

Hazel placed a hand on Nico’s arm. “I appreciate you trying, Nico. And, Frank, that was brave. You… you killed them all, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Frank whispered.

Hazel kissed his cheek. She had to stand on her tiptoes to do it now. Her eyes were incredibly sad, as if she realized something had changed in Frank—something much more important than the physical growth spurt.

Frank knew it too. He would never be the same. He just wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

“Well,” Nico said, breaking the tension, “we should get that barley and get out of here.”

Frank couldn’t agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, Frank. Had to happen. Important part of him becoming who he can be.


	22. Our Friend Learns the Truth (Annabeth XXII)

THEY FOLLOWED BOB THROUGH THE WASTELAND, tracing the route of the Phlegethon as they approached the storm front of darkness. Every so often they stopped to drink firewater, which kept them alive, but Annabeth wasn’t happy about it. Her throat felt like she was constantly gargling with battery acid.

Her only comfort was Percy. Every so often he would glance over and smile, or squeeze her hand. He had to be just as scared and miserable as she was, and she loved him for trying to make her feel better.

“I never understood,” she muttered then cleared her throat. Louder, she said, “Bob? Why did you come to help us? How did you get here?”

“I jumped,” he said, like it was obvious.

“Why? I mean, why would you choose to come here?”

“Percy needed me.” Those silver eyes gleamed in the darkness. “It is okay. I was tired of sweeping the palace. Come along! We are almost at a rest stop.”

Annabeth turned to look at Percy. Here they were, willingly choosing to fall into Tartarus even though the idea terrified them. Yet Bob did it like it was no big deal. The Titan had spent a lot more time down here than Percy or Annabeth ever had, so maybe he was more comfortable, but still. Bob had a lot more courage than Annabeth did. It only strengthened her resolve to get him out through the Doors to see the stars.

They picked their way across the ashen wasteland as red lightning flashed overhead in the poisonous clouds. Just another lovely day in the dungeon of creation. Annabeth couldn’t see far in the hazy air, but the longer they walked, the more certain she became that the entire landscape was a downward curve.

She’d heard conflicting descriptions of Tartarus. It was a bottomless pit. It was a fortress surrounded by brass walls. It was nothing but an endless void. One story described it as the inverse of the sky—a huge, hollow, upside-down dome of rock. That seemed the most accurate, though if Tartarus was a dome Annabeth guessed it was like the sky—with no real bottom but made of multiple layers, each one darker and less hospitable than the last.

And even that wasn’t the full, horrible truth…

They passed a blister in the ground—a writhing, translucent bubble the size of a minivan. Curled inside was the half-formed body of a drakon. Bob speared the blister without a second thought. It burst in a geyser of steaming yellow slime, and the drakon dissolved into nothing.

Bob kept walking.

_ Monsters are zits on the skin of Tartarus, _ Annabeth thought. She shuddered. It was unlikely that she and Percy would be able to get through this without meeting the god of the pit, but for now, she’d just like to ignore that until later. Thinking about Tartarus as a living thing she was walking across—the body of the god—sent shivers down her back.

“Here,” Bob said.

They stopped at the top of a ridge. Below them, in a sheltered depression like a moon crater, stood a ring of broken black marble columns surrounding a dark stone altar.

“Hermes’s shrine,” Bob explained.

Percy shook his head. “I’ll never understand what this is doing in Tartarus.”

Bob laughed in delight. “It fell from somewhere long ago. Maybe mortal world. Maybe Olympus. Anyway, monsters steer clear. Mostly.”

They climbed into the crater and entered the circle of columns. Annabeth collapsed on a broken slab of marble, too exhausted to take another step. Percy stood over her protectively, scanning their surroundings. The inky storm front was less than a hundred feet away now, obscuring everything ahead of them. The crater’s rim blocked their view of the wasteland behind. They’d be well hidden here, but if monsters did stumble across them they would have no warning.

“Giants and Titans,” Annabeth said. “They’re chasing us, right?”

Bob swept his broom around the base of the altar, occasionally crouching to study the ground as if looking for something. “They are following, yes. They know you are here. Giants and Titans. The defeated ones. They know.”

The defeated ones…

“A short break then,” Annabeth said.

Bob nodded. “I will guard you.”

Percy coughed. “Actually, Bob, I wanted to talk to you first. It’s about your memories. You know how you don’t remember some things?”

Bob frowned. “Yes?”

“That… that was my fault,” Percy said quietly. “We were fighting by the Lethe. Uh, we were kind of enemies. I pushed you into the Lethe. I… I didn’t want you to be my enemy.”

“My memories,” Bob said. “That was you?”

“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Percy said.

Bob didn’t say anything. Annabeth really hoped he wasn’t preparing to sweep her and Percy. Finally, he said, “But we are friends now?”

“Yes,” Percy said, looking relieved. “We are. You’re my friend Bob, and I’m your friend Percy. And Annabeth and I are going to get you out of here.”

“We are friends,” Bob agreed. He patted Percy’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me, friend. I will protect you while you sleep. When you wake, food should be here!”

Annabeth’s stomach did a rollover at the mention of food. Food sounded really,  _ really _ good.

She didn’t want to sleep, but her body betrayed her. Her eyelids turned to lead. Annabeth felt like she was back in the Hypnos cabin at Camp Half-Blood, overcome with drowsiness. She curled up on the hard ground and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now Bob knows. Well, he knows Percy took his memories.
> 
> And I'll be posting all four Annabeth chapters. These are just so short.


	23. Someone Burns a Ton of Burgers (Annabeth XXIII)

DEMIGOD DREAMS SUCKED. Especially in Tartarus.

First, she was a little girl again, struggling to climb Half-Blood Hill. Luke Castellan held her hand, pulling her along. Their satyr guide Grover Underwood pranced nervously at the summit, yelling, “Hurry! Hurry!”

Thalia Grace stood behind them, holding back an army of hellhounds with her terror-invoking shield, Aegis. From the top of the hill, Annabeth could see the camp in the valley below—the warm lights of the cabins, the possibility of sanctuary. She stumbled, twisting her ankle, and Luke scooped her up to carry her. When they looked back, the monsters were only a few yards away—dozens of them surrounding Thalia.

“Go!” Thalia yelled. “I’ll hold them off.”

She brandished her spear, and forked lightning slashed through the monsters’ ranks, but as the hellhounds fell more took their place.

“We have to run!” Grover cried.

He led the way into camp. Luke followed, with Annabeth crying, beating at his chest and screaming that they couldn’t leave Thalia alone. But it was too late.

The scene shifted.

Annabeth was older, climbing to the summit of Half-Blood Hill. Where Thalia had made her last stand, a tall pine tree now rose. Overhead a storm was raging.

Thunder shook the valley. A blast of lightning split the tree down to its roots, opening a smoking crevice. In the darkness below stood Reyna, the praetor of New Rome. Her cloak was the color of blood fresh from a vein. Her gold armour glinted. She stared up, her face regal and distant, and spoke directly into Annabeth’s mind.

_ You have done well,  _ Reyna said, but the voice was Athena’s.  _ The rest of my journey must be on the wings of Rome. _

The praetor’s dark eyes turned as grey as storm clouds.

_ I must stand here, _ Reyna told her. _ The Roman must bring me. _

The hill shook. The ground rippled as the grass became folds of silk—the dress of a massive goddess. Gaea rose over Camp Half-Blood—her sleeping face as large as a mountain. Hellhounds poured over the hills. Giants, six-armed Earthborn and wild Cyclopes charged from the beach, tearing down the dining pavilion, setting fire to the cabins and the Big House.

_ Hurry, _ said the voice of Athena.  _ The message must be sent. _

The ground split at Annabeth’s feet and she fell into darkness.

Her eyes flew open. She cried out, grasping Percy’s arms. She was still in Tartarus, at the shrine of Hermes.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Percy said quickly. “I’m here.”

“Is the food here yet?”

Percy grinned. “Look.”

Bob the Titan sat cross-legged by the altar, happily munching a piece of pizza.

Annabeth sighed in relief. “Oh thank the gods.”

Percy rifled through the food. “We’ve got half a hot dog, some grape, a plate of roast beef, a package of peanut M&Ms, a…” he did a double take. “A plate of cheeseburgers? What the Hades? Who burned that?”

Annabeth reached past him and grabbed one of the burgers. “I don’t know, but I love them.”

“M&M’s for Bob?” Bob asked, holding the package with a smile on his face.

“Sure,” Percy said.

“This is amazing,” Annabeth moaned as she ate her burger. “It’s from Camp, but… I don’t understand. Who burnt a whole platter of them?”

“They Greeks and Romans made peace and this was the offering,” Percy suggested.

Annabeth snorted. “Unlikely. I wish though.” She had an inkling of an idea about who might be burning extra food just for them.

They finished eating in silence.

Bob chomped down the last of his M&M’s. “Should go now. They will be here in a few minutes. Well, I think minutes…” Bob scratched his silvery hair. “Time is hard in Tartarus. Not the same.”

Percy crept to the edge of the crater. He peered back the way they’d come. “I don’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean much. We should head out now.”

“Yeah.” Annabeth stood while Bob started cleaning up, collecting their trash in a little pile, using his squirt bottle to wipe off the altar.

“Bob’s going to help us get the Death Mist so we can be disguised as we head for the Doors,” Percy explained while Bob finished cleaning.

“Bob helps!” Bob agreed. “Into the Dark Lands. The Doors of Death… hmm, walking straight to them would be bad. Too many monsters gathered there. Even Bob could not sweep that many. They would kill Percy and Annabeth in about two seconds.” The Titan frowned. “I think seconds. Time is hard in Tartarus. The Death Mist can hide you.” He pointed ahead of them into the inky blackness. “We should go.”

“Just a second,” Annabeth said. She picked out a clean paper napkin. “Percy, can I see Riptide, please?”

“What? Oh, right.” Percy tossed his pen to her.

Annabeth caught it and uncapped it. As usual, it sprang into a full-sized sword. She touched the cap to the hilt of the sword. Riptide shrank back into a ballpoint pen, but now the writing point was exposed. She flattened the napkin against the altar and began to write. Riptide’s ink glowed Celestial bronze.

Annabeth finished her note and folded the napkin. On the outside, she wrote:

_ Connor, _

_ Give this to Rachel. Not a prank. Don’t be a moron. _

_ Love, _

_ Annabeth _

She took a deep breath. She was asking Rachel Dare to do something ridiculously dangerous, but it was the only way they could communicate with the Romans—the only way that might avoid bloodshed.

“Now I just need to burn it,” she said. “Anybody got a match?”

The point of Bob’s spear shot from his broom handle. It sparked against the altar and erupted in silvery fire.

“Uh, thanks.” Annabeth lit the napkin and set it on the altar. She watched it crumble to ash.

“We should go now,” Bob advised. “Really, really go. Before we are killed.”

Annabeth stared at the wall of blackness in front of them. She wasn’t eager to go forward, and by the look on Percy’s face, he wasn’t either. But they had to do this. They had to close the Doors and help their friends.

“Right,” she said. “I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses who burnt the burgers and the first two don't count.
> 
> (I say that, but like if it's not obvious and now I sound super mean... I'm sorry)


	24. There Are Good Titans and Bad Titans (Annabeth XXIV)

ANNABETH LITERALLY STUMBLED over the second Titan.

After entering the storm front, they plodded on for what seemed like hours, relying on the light of Percy’s Celestial bronze blade, and on Bob, who glowed faintly in the dark like some sort of crazy janitor angel.

Annabeth could only see about five feet in front of her. In a strange way, the Dark Lands reminded her of San Francisco, where her dad lived—on those summer afternoons when the fog bank rolled in like cold, wet packing material and swallowed Pacific Heights. Except here in Tartarus, the fog was made of ink. Rocks loomed out of nowhere. Pits appeared at their feet, and Annabeth barely avoided falling in. Monstrous roars echoed in the gloom, but Annabeth couldn’t tell where they came from. All she could be certain of was that the terrain was still sloping down.

Down seemed to be the only direction allowed in Tartarus. If Annabeth backtracked even a step, she felt tired and heavy, as if gravity were increasing to discourage her. Annabeth had a nasty feeling they were marching straight down Tartarus’s throat.

She was so preoccupied with that thought she didn’t notice the ledge until it was too late.

Percy yelled, “Whoa!” He grabbed for her arm, but she was already falling.

Fortunately, it was only a shallow depression. Most of it was filled with a monster blister. She had a soft landing on a warm bouncy surface and was feeling lucky—until she opened her eyes and found herself staring through a glowing gold membrane at another, much larger face. She screamed and flailed, toppling sideways off the mound. Her heart did a hundred jumping jacks.

Percy helped her to her feet. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she gasped. “Just… startled. I… Hyperion…”

Annabeth knew that she and Percy weren’t going to be able to recall every detail perfectly. That was fine. But some things should have been too memorable to forget. It wasn’t until now— _ after _ she had already stumbled over the Titan—that she remembered what had happened.

Curled in the membrane bubble in front of her was a fully formed Titan in golden armour, his skin the color of polished pennies. His eyes were closed, but he scowled so deeply he appeared to be on the verge of a bloodcurdling war cry. Even through the blister, Annabeth could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Hyperion,” Percy said. “I hate that guy.”

“I guess we should have had Grover check up on him,” Annabeth said, eyes locked on the Titan. “Something else we’ve forgotten.”

Annabeth glanced at Bob. The silvery Titan was studying Hyperion with a frown of concentration—maybe recognition.

“Bob,” she said.

“Gold, not silver,” Bob murmured. “But he looks like me.”

Percy bit his lip. “Bob. Remember what I said earlier? About your memories? Well, this guy, Hyperion is your brother. From before.”

“Brother,” Bob repeated.

“Y-yeah,” Percy stuttered. “A-and you know how some monsters are good and some are bad.”

“Hmm,” Bob said. “Like… the pretty ghost ladies who serve Persephone are good. Exploding zombies are bad.”

Percy blinked. “Right. Uh, well, that’s true for Titans too. Bob the Titan is a good Titan. Hyperion the Titan is a bad Titan. He tried to kill me and a lot of other people.”

“Who am I?” Bob asked, staring at Percy unblinkingly. “Before. Who was I?”

“Your name was Iapetus,” Percy said slowly. “Your brothers are Oceanus, Koios, Krios, Hyperion, and Kronos. You were the Titan of the West. You were… Iapetus was not a good Titan.”

“Bob is good.” His fingers tightened on his broom handle. “Yes. There is always at least one good one—monsters, Titans, giants.”

“Yes,” Annabeth said calmly. “You  _ are _ good. You’re a good friend, Bob.”

“Bob is good,” he repeated more quietly.

“I won’t make you destroy him,” Percy said. “We can just keep going if you want.”

“No,” Bob said. His broom-spear swept into motion. Bob slashed through the monstrous blister, which burst in a geyser of hot golden mud.

Annabeth wiped the Titan sludge out of her eyes. Where Hyperion had been, there was nothing but a smoking crater.

“Hyperion is a bad Titan,” Bob announced, his expression grim. “Now he can’t hurt my friends. He will have to reform somewhere else in Tartarus. Hopefully it will take a long time.”

The Titan’s eyes seemed brighter than usual, as if he were about to cry quicksilver.

“Bob,” Percy said. “Thank you.”

Annabeth took Percy’s hand and squeezed it. It was nerve wracking, not knowing what Bob would do, but they both trusted Bob. They both trusted and cared for Bob. Most importantly, they believed in him. They didn’t need to manipulate him into doing anything. Not like last time.

“We better keep going,” Percy said.

Annabeth and Percy followed Bob, the golden mud flecks from Hyperion’s burst bubble glowing on his janitor’s uniform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bob.... I really hope he gets saved.


	25. We Meet a Small Old Friend (Annabeth XXV)

AFTER A WHILE, Annabeth’s feet felt like Titan mush. She marched along, following Bob, listening to the monotonous slosh of liquid in his cleaning bottle.

_ Stay alert, _ she told herself, but it was hard. Her thoughts were as numb as her legs. From time to time, Percy took her hand or made an encouraging comment, but she could tell the dark landscape was getting to him as well. His eyes had a dull sheen—like his spirit was being slowly extinguished.

Tartarus was designed to hurt and crush. The darkness would take its toll on even the most optimistic of demigods. Staying alert and staying positive would be half the battle.

Annabeth was tempted to ask for a rest, but she didn’t want to stop. Not here in this cold, dark place. The black fog seeped into her body, turning her bones into moist Styrofoam.

She hoped nothing went wrong with what she was sending Rachel to do. Reyna had listened last time, but that didn’t mean she would listen this time. And there were so many more factors that she hadn’t exactly accounted for. So much had changed. What if all those changes only led to something much, much worse?

_ Shut up, _ she told herself.

Suddenly Bob stopped. He raised his hand:  _ Wait. _

“What?” Percy whispered.

“Shh,” Bob warned. “Ahead. Something moves.”

Annabeth strained her ears. From somewhere in the fog came a deep thrumming noise, like the idling engine of a large construction vehicle. She could feel the vibrations through her shoes.

“We will surround it,” Bob whispered. “Each of you, take a flank.”

Annabeth drew her dagger and crept left. Percy went right, his sword ready. Bob took the middle, his spearhead glowing in the fog.

She looked at Percy and mouthed,  _ Isn’t this…? _

Percy tilted his head. Suddenly his eyes widened and he nodded.

The humming got louder, shaking the gravel at Annabeth’s feet. The noise seemed to be coming from immediately in front of them.

“Ready?” Bob murmured.

“Wait, Bob,” Annabeth started.

“One,” he whispered. “Two—”

A figure appeared in the fog. Bob raised his spear.

“Wait!” Annabeth shrieked.

Bob froze just in time, the point of his spear hovering an inch above the head of a tiny calico kitten.

“Rrow?” said the kitten, clearly unimpressed by their attack plan. It butted its head against Bob’s foot and purred loudly.

It seemed impossible, but the deep rumbling sound was coming from the kitten. As it purred, the ground vibrated and pebbles danced. The kitten fixed its yellow, lamp-like eyes on one particular rock, right between Annabeth’s feet, and pounced.

“Aww,” Annabeth said. She picked it up and cuddled it. The little thing was bony under its fur, but otherwise it seemed perfectly normal.

The cat grew impatient and squirmed out of her arms. It landed with a thump, padded over to Bob and started purring again as it rubbed against his boots.

Percy laughed. “Somebody likes you, Bob.”

“It must be a good monster.” Bob looked up nervously. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said. “Yeah, I think so.” She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Seeing Bob and this tiny kitten together… It wasn’t fair. They didn’t deserve to be in Tartarus. This place had no respect for anything—good or bad, small or large, wise or unwise. Tartarus swallowed Titans and demigods and kittens indiscriminately.

Bob knelt down and scooped up the cat. It fitted perfectly in Bob’s palm, but it decided to explore. It climbed the Titan’s arm, made itself at home on his shoulder and closed its eyes, purring like an earthmover. Suddenly its fur shimmered. In a flash, the kitten became a ghostly skeleton, as if it had stepped behind an X-ray machine. Then it was a regular kitten again.

Even if she was expecting it, it was still alarming to see.

“Whoa,” she said.

“It’s from the Smithsonian,” Percy said unnecessarily. “Atlas, uh,” he glanced at Bob. “Atlas raised them there. You were in Boston, but… yeah.” He frowned. “I should have saved the kittens. Atlas told his servants to take them away.”

“It’s cute,” Bob said, as the kitten sniffed his ear.

The Titan scratched the kitten’s chin. “I will call him Small Bob,” said Bob. “He is a good monster.” He hefted his spear and they continued marching into the gloom.

As the air got colder and thicker, Percy looked more and more apprehensive.

“Bob? Is this the only way?” he asked.

“Yes,” Bob said. He stopped. “Darker, then sideways.”

Bob struck off to the left. They followed. The air definitely got colder. Annabeth pressed against Percy for warmth. He put his arm around her. It felt good being close to him, but she couldn’t relax. They both knew what was coming.

_ Unless of course the Fates are going to be nice for once? _ Annabeth thought. She didn’t think her prayers were heard.

They’d entered some sort of forest. Towering black trees soared into the gloom, perfectly round and bare of branches, like monstrous hair follicles. The ground was smooth and pale.

_ The armpit of Tartarus, _ her brain helpfully supplied.

Suddenly her senses were on high alert, as if somebody had snapped a rubber band against the base of her neck. She rested her hand on the trunk of the nearest tree.

“What is it?” Percy raised his sword.

Bob turned and looked back, confused. “We are stopping?”

Annabeth held up her hand for silence. She wasn’t sure what had set her off. Something in the landscape, just the fact that she was expecting it? Nothing looked different. Then she realized the tree trunk was quivering. She hoped in vain that it was the kitten’s purr, but Small Bob had fallen asleep on Large Bob’s shoulder.

A few yards away, another tree shuddered.

“Something’s moving above us,” Annabeth whispered. “Gather up.”

Bob and Percy closed ranks with her, standing back to back.

Annabeth strained her eyes, trying to see above them in the dark, but nothing moved. Then the first monster dropped to the ground only five feet away.

The creature was a wrinkled hag with bat-like wings, brass talons and glowing red eyes. She wore a tattered dress of black silk, and her face was twisted and ravenous, like a demonic grandmother in the mood to kill.

Bob grunted as another one dropped in front of him, and then another in front of Percy. Soon there were half a dozen surrounding them. More hissed in the trees above.

“The _arai_ ,” Annabeth said, voice quivering.

_ “Percy? Percy, where are you?” The darkness was surrounding her and she was alone. Alone and blind. She didn’t know where she was or where Percy was. _

Annabeth forced the memories away.

_ Yes, _ hissed a voice.  _ The curses! _

Annabeth tried to locate the speaker, but none of the demons had moved their mouths. Their eyes looked dead; their expressions were frozen, like a puppet’s. The voice simply floated overhead like a movie narrator’s, as if a single mind controlled all the creatures.

“Leave us alone,” Percy said, brandishing his sword. As if that would intimidate them. It would be exactly what they wanted.

The voice cackled maliciously.  _ A foolish request. We will destroy you a thousand times in the name of Mother Night! _

“Only a thousand times?” Percy murmured. “Oh, good… I thought we were in trouble.”

The circle of demon ladies closed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course the Fates can't give them a break for once. That would be too much to ask for.


	26. A Farting Weasel Wakes Me Up and Nico Talks About History (Hazel XXVI)

EVERYTHING SMELLED LIKE POISON. Two days after leaving Venice, Hazel still couldn’t get the noxious scent of  _ eau de cow monster _ out of her nose.

The seasickness didn’t help. The  _ Argo II  _ sailed down the Adriatic, a beautiful glittering expanse of blue, but Hazel couldn’t appreciate it, thanks to the constant rolling of the ship. Above deck, she tried to keep her eyes fixed on the horizon—the white cliffs that always seemed just a mile or so to the east. What country was that, Croatia? She wasn’t sure. She just wished she were on solid ground again.

The thing that nauseated her most was the weasel.

Last night, Hecate’s pet Gale had appeared in her cabin. Hazel woke from a nightmare, thinking,  _ What is that smell? _ She found a furry rodent propped on her chest, staring at her with its beady black eyes. Nothing like waking up screaming, kicking off your covers and dancing around your cabin while a weasel scampers between your feet, screeching and farting.

Her friends rushed to her room to see if she was okay. The weasel was difficult to explain. Hazel could tell that Leo was trying hard not to make a joke.

In the morning, once the excitement died down, Hazel decided to visit Coach Hedge, since he could talk to animals. She’d found his cabin door ajar and heard the coach inside, talking as if he were on the phone with someone—except they had no phones on board. Maybe he was sending a magical Iris-message? Hazel had heard that the Greeks used those a lot.

“Sure, hon,” Hedge was saying. “Yeah, I know, baby. No, it’s great news, but—” His voice broke with emotion. Hazel suddenly felt horrible for eavesdropping.

She would’ve backed away, but Gale squeaked at her heels. Hazel knocked on the coach’s door. Hedge poked his head out, scowling as usual, but his eyes were red.

“What?” he growled.

“Um… sorry,” Hazel said. “Are you okay?”

The coach snorted and opened his door wide. “Kinda question is that?”

There was no one else in the room.

“I—” Hazel tried to remember why she was there. “I wondered if you could talk to my weasel.”

The coach’s eyes narrowed. He lowered his voice. “Are we speaking in code? Is there an intruder aboard?”

“Well, sort of.”

Gale peeked out from behind Hazel’s feet and started chattering. The coach looked offended. He chattered back at the weasel. They had what sounded like a very intense argument.

“What did she say?” Hazel asked.

“A lot of rude things,” grumbled the satyr. “The gist of it: she’s here to see how it goes.”

“How what goes?”

Coach Hedge stomped his hoof. “How am I supposed to know? She’s a polecat! They never give a straight answer. Ask your brother. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got, uh, stuff…” He closed the door in her face.

Ask Nico…

She could do that. It was pretty likely that he knew whatever it was that Gale was here to see. But although no one had said it, Hazel got the feeling that telling gods or goddesses about the little time travel excursion was off the table. Speaking about it in front of Gale would no doubt result in Hecate finding out. Unfortunately, the polecat was following her everywhere, so Hazel didn’t think she would be able to get away long enough to talk privately.

After breakfast, Hazel stood at the port rail, trying to settle her stomach. Next to her, Gale ran up and down the railing, passing gas, but the strong wind off the Adriatic helped whisk it away.

Hazel wondered what was wrong with Coach Hedge. He must have been using an Iris-message to talk with someone, but, if he’d got great news, why had he looked so devastated? She’d never seen him so shaken up. Unfortunately, she doubted the coach would ask for help if he needed it. He wasn’t exactly the warm and open type.

She stared at the white cliffs in the distance and thought about why Hecate had sent Gale the polecat.

_ She’s here to see how it goes. _

Something was about to happen. Hazel would be tested. That much she knew. She didn’t understand how she was supposed to learn magic with no training. Hecate expected her to defeat some super-powerful sorceress—the lady in the gold dress, whom Leo had described from his dream. But how?

Hazel had spent all her free time trying to figure that out. She’d stared at her spatha, trying to make it look like a walking stick. She’d tried to summon a cloud to hide the full moon. She’d concentrated until her eyes crossed and her ears popped, but nothing happened. It didn’t matter how many times Nico reassured her and encouraged her. She couldn’t manipulate the Mist.

The last few nights, her dreams had got worse. She found herself back in the Fields of Asphodel, drifting aimlessly among the ghosts. Then she was in Gaea’s cave in Alaska, where Hazel and her mother had died as the ceiling collapsed and the voice of the Earth Goddess wailed in anger. She was on the stairs of her mother’s apartment building in New Orleans, face to face with her father, Pluto.

His cold fingers gripped her arm. The fabric of his black wool suit writhed with imprisoned souls. He fixed her with his dark angry eyes and said:  _ The dead see what they believe they will see. So do the living. That is the secret.  _ He’d never said that to her in real life. She had no idea what it meant.

The worst nightmares seemed like glimpses of the future. Hazel was stumbling through a dark tunnel while a woman’s laughter echoed around her.

_ Control this if you can, child of Pluto, _ the woman taunted.

And always Hazel dreamed about the images she’d seen at Hecate’s crossroads: Leo falling through the sky; Percy and Annabeth wandering through a dark tunnel, scared and alone; and a shrouded figure looming above a pair of black metal doors—the giant Clytius wrapped in darkness.

Next to her on the rail, Gale the weasel chittered impatiently. Hazel was tempted to push the stupid rodent into the sea.

_ I can’t even control my own dreams, _ she wanted to scream.  _ How am I supposed to control the Mist? _

She was so miserable that she didn’t notice Frank until he was standing at her side.

“Feeling any better?” he asked.

He took her hand, his fingers completely covering hers. She couldn’t believe how much taller he’d become. He had changed into so many animals, she wasn’t sure why one more transformation should amaze her… but suddenly he’d grown into his weight. No one could call him pudgy or cuddly any more. He looked like a football player, solid and strong, with a new centre of gravity. His shoulders had broadened. He walked with more confidence.

What Frank had done on that bridge in Venice… Hazel was still in awe. None of them had actually seen the battle, but no one doubted it. Frank’s whole bearing had changed. Even Leo had stopped making jokes at his expense.

“I’m—I’m all right,” Hazel managed. “You?”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m, uh, taller. Otherwise, yeah. I’m good. I haven’t really, you know, changed inside…”

His voice held a little of the old doubt and awkwardness—the voice of her Frank, who always worried about being a klutz and messing up. Hazel felt relieved. She liked that part of him. At first, his new appearance had shocked her. She’d been worried that his personality had changed as well.

Now she was starting to relax about that. Despite all his strength, Frank was the same sweet guy. He was still vulnerable. He still trusted her with his biggest weakness—the piece of magical firewood she carried in her coat pocket, next to her heart.

“I know, and I’m glad.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s… it’s actually not you I’m worried about.”

Frank grunted. “How’s Nico doing?”

She’d been thinking about herself, not Nico, but she followed Frank’s gaze to the top of the foremast, where Nico was perched on the yardarm.

Nico claimed that he liked to keep watch because he had good eyes. Hazel knew that wasn’t the reason. Nico already knew what was going to happen and when it would happen, he didn’t need to look out for it. What Nico really wanted, Hazel thought, was a sense of normalcy.

Normal for Nico was sitting on top of the yardarm to scan for threats. That was what he  _ would have  _ been doing the whole time. Normal was not calling all the shots just because he knew what was going on. Hazel understood, but she wished her brother would spend some more time with them.

“He’s been through a lot,” Hazel said. “Getting captured in Tartarus, being held prisoner in that bronze jar, watching Percy and Annabeth fall… it’s been hard on all of us, but especially him.”

“He’s handling it better that I would have,” Frank said. “Doing what they’re doing… I don’t think I could do it.”

“Ever since I met him, Nico’s always been strong,” Hazel told him. “He had to put up with me figuring out the 21st century, he had to keep the two camps a secret… It’s amazing.”

“Would you believe it if I said helping you figure out the 21st century was also  _ me _ figuring out the 21st century?” Nico’s voice asked from behind them.

Frank jumped. “Dude! Warning.”

“Sorry.” Nico gave Frank a thin smile.

Hazel giggled. “You figuring it out? Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Nico said. “I mean, I mostly spent my time in Camp Half-Blood, so… I didn’t really get out to see the world. Not the fun parts anyway. And I had to catch up on some stuff I missed.”

Frank scratched his head. “Like what?”

“History,” Nico shrugged. “I knew I had to teach Hazel about the Civil Rights Movement and, I mean, there was a lot of other stuff.”

Gale the polecat scampered up to them, farted and ran away.

“Ugh.” Frank waved away the smell. “Why is that thing here, anyway?”

Hazel was almost glad she wasn’t on dry land. As agitated as she felt, gold and gems would probably be popping up all around her feet.

“Hecate sent Gale to observe,” she said.

“Observe what?”

Hazel tried to take comfort in Frank’s presence, his new aura of solidity and strength.

“I don’t know,” she said at last. “Some kind of test.” She glanced at Nico.

Nico shrugged. “You’ll figure it out.”

Suddenly the boat lurched forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank's trials began in his last chapters, not Hazel's trials are beginning. You know, this whole books is them going through trials. Frank becoming a leader, Hazel learning how to use the Mist, Piper stepping up to best Khione and her brothers, Jason finding his path, Percy and Annabeth obviously have to go through hell, Leo using his talents to defeat the Kerkopes (I mean, his major trial is in the next book), and Nico, you know, facing Cupid (sorry, did I say facing? I meant acknowledging who he is while being brutally attacked mentally, emotionally, and physically by a bully). And of course, Reyna being the queen she is and fighting her way to Epirus alone.


	27. We Fight a Turtle Bigger Than Sam's Brother (Hazel XXVII)

LOOKING BACK ON IT, Nico coming down from the yardarm was a huge red flag. Hazel should have known that something was going to happen. Apparently, that something was Nico trying to avoid getting flung from high up.

Too bad Nico didn’t feel like warning anyone else. Hazel and Frank tumbled over each other. Hazel accidentally gave herself the Heimlich maneuver with the pommel of her sword and curled on the deck, moaning and coughing up the taste of katobleps poison. Through a fog of pain, she heard the ship’s figurehead, Festus the bronze dragon, creaking in alarm and shooting fire.

Dimly, Hazel wondered if they’d hit an iceberg—but in the Adriatic, in the middle of summer? The ship rocked to port with a massive commotion, like telephone poles snapping in half.

“Gahh!” Leo yelled somewhere behind her. “It’s eating the oars! I swear, di Angelo!”

_ What is? _ Hazel wondered. She tried to stand, but something large and heavy was pinning her legs. She realized it was Frank, grumbling as he tried to extract himself from a pile of loose rope.

Nico grimaced. “Oops. Here.” He reached out to help Hazel to untangle herself from Frank and get to her feet.

Everyone else was scrambling. Jason jumped over them, his sword drawn, and raced towards the stern. Magnus and Alex came charging out onto the deck. Piper was already on the quarterdeck, shooting food from her cornucopia and yelling, “Hey! HEY! Eat this, ya stupid turtle!”

_ Turtle? _

“WHAT THE HEL KIND OF TURTLE IS THAT?” Magnus screamed. “It’s bigger than Sam’s brother!”

That probably should have worried Hazel, but she didn’t know who Sam was  _ or _ who Sam’s brother was.

“You okay?” Frank asked.

“Yeah,” Hazel lied, clutching her stomach. “Go! Nico, you too, I’ll be fine.”

Frank sprinted up the steps, slinging off his backpack, which instantly transformed into a bow and quiver. By the time he reached the helm, he had already fired one arrow and was nocking the second.

Nico was more hesitant to leave, but Hazel pushed him towards the others as she stumbled behind him.

Leo frantically worked the ship’s controls. “Oars won’t retract. Get it away! Get it away!”

“Styx—it’s huge!” Jason shouted. “Leo! Get us out of here!”

Coach Hedge was the last one on deck. He compensated for that with enthusiasm. He bounded up the steps, waving his baseball bat, and without hesitation goat-galloped to the stern and leaped over the rail with a gleeful “Ha-HA!”

Hazel staggered towards the quarterdeck to join her friends. The boat shuddered. More oars snapped, and Leo yelled, “No, no, no! Dang slimy-shelled son of a mother!”

Hazel reached the stern and couldn’t believe what she saw.

When she heard the word turtle, she thought of a cute little thing the size of a jewellery box, sitting on a rock in the middle of a fishpond. When she heard huge, her mind tried to adjust—okay, perhaps it was like the Galapagos tortoise she’d seen in the zoo once, with a shell big enough to ride on.

She did not envision a creature the size of an island. When she saw the massive dome of craggy black and brown squares, the word turtle simply did not compute. Its shell was more like a landmass—hills of bone, shiny pearl valleys, kelp and moss forests, rivers of seawater trickling down the grooves of its carapace.

On the ship’s starboard side, another part of the monster rose from the water like a submarine. Lares of Rome… was that its head? Its gold eyes were the size of wading pools, with dark sideways slits for pupils. Its skin glistened like wet army camouflage—brown flecked with green and yellow. Its red, toothless mouth could’ve swallowed the Athena Parthenos in one bite.

Hazel watched as it snapped off half a dozen oars.

“Stop that!” Leo wailed.

Coach Hedge clambered around the turtle’s shell, whacking at it uselessly with his baseball bat and yelling, “Take that! And that!”

“Jack!” Magnus said, yanking his pendant from its chain. A glowing sword immediately sprang forth.

“Señor! What’s going on—GIANT TURTLE!”

“Yeah, I know,” Magnus grumbled. “Give it everything we’ve got. Try not to kill me this time.”

Jason flew from the stern and landed on the creature’s head. He stabbed his golden sword straight between its eyes, but the blade slipped sideways, as if the turtle’s skin were greased steel.

Jack glowed pink. “Oh, señor, he’s  _ perfect. _ ”

“No showing off!” Magnus yelled after his sword as Jack flew off to attack the turtle.

Frank shot arrows at the monster’s eyes with no success. The turtle’s filmy inner eyelids blinked with uncanny precision, deflecting each shot. Piper shot cantaloupes into the water, yelling, “Fetch, ya stupid turtle!”

But the turtle seemed fixated on eating the  _ Argo II. _

“How did it get so close?” Hazel demanded.

Leo threw his hands up in exasperation. “Must be that shell. Guess it’s invisible to sonar. It’s a freaking stealth turtle!”

“If it wasn’t trying to kill us, that would be awesome,” Alex said. “Hey, do you think Frank or I could turn into one?”

“For some reason, I’d rather not find out,” Magnus said. “What do we do now?”

“Can the ship fly?” Piper asked.

“With half our oars broken off?” Leo punched some buttons and spun his Archimedes sphere. “I’ll have to try something else.”

“There!” Nico pointed. “Can you get us to those straits?”

Hazel looked where he was pointing. About half a mile to the east, a long strip of land ran parallel to the coastal cliffs. It was hard to be sure from a distance, but the stretch of water between them looked to be only twenty or thirty yards across—possibly wide enough for the  _ Argo II _ to slip through, but definitely not wide enough for the giant turtle’s shell.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Leo apparently understood. He turned the Archimedes sphere. “Jason, get away from that thing’s head! I have an idea!”

Jason was still hacking away at the turtle’s face, but when he heard Leo say, “I have an idea,” he made the only smart choice. He flew away as fast as possible.

“Coach, come on!” Jason said.

“No, I got this!” Hedge said, but Jason grabbed him around the waist and took off. Unfortunately, the coach struggled so much that Jason’s sword fell out of his hand.

“Nooooo!” Jack wailed as the gladius splashed into the sea. “Come baaaaack!”

“Coach!” Jason complained.

“What?” Hedge said. “I was softening him up!”

The turtle head-butted the hull, almost tossing the whole crew off the port side. Hazel heard a cracking sound, like the keel had splintered.

“Jack, any progress?” Magnus called.

“Nothing, señor,” Jack reported. “I can’t make a dent.”

Magnus muttered something in a different language under his breath that Hazel was pretty sure she didn’t want translated. “Get back here then. Don’t tire me out if it’s not going to work.”

“Just another minute,” Leo said, his hands flying over the console.

“We might not be here in another minute!” Frank fired his last arrow.

Piper yelled at the turtle, “Go away!”

For a moment, it actually worked. The turtle turned from the ship and dipped its head underwater. But then it came right back and rammed them even harder.

Jason and Coach Hedge landed on the deck.

“You alright?” Piper asked.

“Fine,” Jason muttered. “Without a weapon, but fine.”

“Fire in the shell!” Leo cried, spinning his Wii controller.

Hazel thought the stern had exploded. Jets of fire blasted out behind them, washing over the turtle’s head. The ship shot forward and threw Hazel to the deck again. She hauled herself up and saw that the ship was bouncing over the waves at incredible speed, trailing fire like a rocket. The turtle was already a hundred yards behind them, its head charred and smoking.

The monster bellowed in frustration and started after them, its paddle feet scooping through the water with such power that it actually started to gain on them. The entrance to the straits was still a quarter mile ahead.

“A distraction,” Leo muttered. “We’ll never make it unless we get a distraction.”

“A distraction,” Hazel repeated.

She concentrated and thought:  _ Arion! _

She had no idea whether it would work. But instantly Hazel spotted something on the horizon—a flash of light and steam. It streaked across the surface of the Adriatic. In a heartbeat, Arion stood on the quarterdeck.

_ Gods of Olympus, _ Hazel thought.  _ I love this horse. _

Arion snorted as if to say,  _ Of course you do. You’re not stupid. _

Hazel climbed on his back. “Piper, I could use that charmspeak of yours.”

“Once upon a time, I liked turtles,” Piper muttered, accepting a hand up. “Not any more!”

Hazel spurred Arion. He leaped over the side of the boat, hitting the water at a full gallop.

The turtle was a fast swimmer, but it couldn’t match Arion’s speed. Hazel and Piper zipped around the monster’s head, Hazel slicing with her sword, Piper shouting random commands like, “Dive! Turn left! Look behind you!”

The sword did no damage. Each command only worked for a moment, but they were making the turtle very annoyed. Arion whinnied derisively as the turtle snapped at him, only to get a mouthful of horse vapour.

Soon the monster had completely forgotten the  _ Argo II.  _ Hazel kept stabbing at its head. Piper kept yelling commands and using her cornucopia to bounce coconuts and roasted chickens off the turtle’s eyeballs.

As soon as the  _ Argo II  _ had passed into the straits, Arion broke off his harassment. They sped after the ship, and a moment later were back on deck. The rocket fire had extinguished, though smoking bronze exhaust vents still jutted from the stern.

The _ Argo II _ limped forward under sail power, but their plan had paid off. They were safely harboured in the narrow waters, with a long, rocky island to starboard and the sheer white cliffs of the mainland to port. The turtle stopped at the entrance to the straits and glared at them balefully, but it made no attempt to follow. Its shell was obviously much too wide.

Hazel dismounted and got a big hug from Frank. “Nice work out there!” he said.

Her face flushed. “Thanks.”

Piper slid down next to her. “Leo, since when do we have jet propulsion?”

“Aw, you know…” Leo tried to look modest and failed. “Just a little something I whipped up in my spare time. Wish I could’ve given you more than a few seconds of burn, but at least it got us out of there.”

“And roasted the turtle’s head,” Jason said appreciatively. “So what now?”

“Kill it!” Coach said. “You even have to ask? We got enough distance. We got a ballistae. Lock and load, demigods!”

Jason frowned. “Coach, first of all, you made me lose my sword.”

“Hey! I didn’t ask for an evac!”

“Second, I don’t think the ballistae will do any good. That shell is like Nemean Lion skin. Its head isn’t any softer.”

“It won’t do any good,” Magnus spoke up. “Jack’s the sharpest sword in the Nine Realms. If anything could pierce the shell, it’s Jack, but…”

“Clearly that didn’t work,” Alex said.

“So we chuck one right down its throat,” Coach said, “like you guys did with that shrimp monster thing in the Atlantic. Light it up from the inside.”

Frank scratched his head. “Might work. But then you’ve got a five-million-kilo turtle carcass blocking the entrance to the straits. If we can’t fly with the oars broken, how do we get the ship out?”

“You wait and fix the oars!” Coach said. “Or just sail in the other direction, you big galoot.”

Frank looked confused. “What’s a galoot?”

“About sailing in the other direction? Look,” Alex said, pointing down the strait.

A quarter mile ahead of them, the long rocky strip of land curved in and met the cliffs. The channel ended in a narrow V.

“We’re not in a strait,” Jason said. “We’re in a dead end.”

Hazel got a cold feeling in her fingers and toes. On the port rail, Gale the weasel sat up on her haunches, staring at Hazel expectantly.

“This is a trap,” Hazel said.

The others looked at her.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Leo said. “Worst that happens, we make repairs. Might take overnight, but I can get the ship flying again.” He glanced at Nico. “Right?”

Nico didn’t say anything.

At the mouth of the inlet, the turtle roared. It didn’t appear interested in leaving.

“Well…” Piper shrugged. “At least the turtle can’t get us. We’re safe here.”

“Why would you—?” Alex began to shout, but an arrow sank into the mainmast, six inches from Piper’s face. The crew scattered for cover, except for Piper, who stood frozen in place, gaping at the arrow that had almost pierced her nose the hard way.

“Piper, duck!” Jason whispered harshly.

But no other missiles rained down.

Frank studied the angle of the bolt in the mast and pointed towards the top of the cliffs. “Up there,” he said. “Single shooter. See him?”

The sun was in her eyes, but Hazel spotted a tiny figure standing at the top of the ledge. His bronze armour glinted.

“Who the heck is he?” Leo demanded. “Why is he firing at us?”

“Guys?” Piper’s voice was thin and watery. “There’s a note.”

Hazel hadn’t seen it before, but a parchment scroll was tied to the arrow shaft. She wasn’t sure why, but that made her angry. She stormed over and untied it.

“Uh, Hazel?” Leo said. “You sure that’s safe?”

She read the note out loud. “First line: Stand and deliver.”

“What does that mean?” Coach Hedge complained. “We are standing. Well, crouching, anyway. And if that guy is expecting a pizza delivery, forget it!”

“There’s more,” Hazel said. “This is a robbery. Send two of your party to the top of the cliff with all your valuables. No more than two. Leave the magic horse. No flying. No tricks. Just climb.”

“Climb what?” Piper asked.

Nico pointed. “There.”

A narrow set of steps was carved into the cliff, leading to the top. The turtle, the dead-end channel, the cliff… Hazel got the feeling this was not the first time the letter writer had ambushed a ship here.

She cleared her throat and kept reading aloud: “I do mean all your valuables. Otherwise my turtle and I will destroy you. You have five minutes.”

“Use the catapults!” cried the coach.

“P.S.” Hazel read, “don’t even think about using your catapults.”

“Curse it!” said the coach. “This guy is good.”

“Listen up,” Nico said lowly. “The bandit’s name is Sciron. Theseus fought him.”

“I’ve heard about him,” Hazel said. “He… I know this story. I heard it back at Camp Jupiter. Oh, what did he do? I can’t remember.”

“He kicks his victims off the cliff and his turtle eats them,” Nico supplied.

Now Hazel remembered the story. The weasel Gale watched her, waiting to see what she would do.

_ The test hasn’t happened yet, _ she thought.

Distracting the turtle hadn’t been enough. Hazel hadn’t proven anything about how she could manipulate the Mist… mostly because she couldn’t manipulate the Mist.

Leo studied the cliff top and muttered under his breath. “That’s not a good trajectory. Even if I could arm the catapult before that guy pincushioned us with arrows, I don’t think I could make the shot. That’s hundreds of feet, almost straight up.”

“Yeah,” Frank grumbled. “My bow is useless too. He’s got a huge advantage, being above us like that. I couldn’t reach him.”

“And, um…” Piper nudged the arrow that was stuck in the mast. “I have a feeling he’s a good shot. I don’t think he meant to hit me. But if he did…”

She didn’t need to elaborate. Whoever that robber was, he could hit a target from hundreds of feet away. He could shoot them all before they could react.

“I’ll go,” Hazel said.

She hated the idea, but she was sure Hecate had set this up as some sort of twisted challenge. This was Hazel’s test—her turn to save the ship. As if she needed confirmation, Gale scampered along the railing and jumped on her shoulder, ready to hitch a ride.

The others stared at her.

Frank gripped his bow. “Hazel—”

“No, listen,” she said, “this robber wants valuables. I can go up there, summon gold, jewels, whatever he wants.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “If we pay him off, you think he’ll actually let us go? Like without the killing part?”

“Hazel can do it,” Nico said, eyes locked onto his sister. “Jason, you should go with her.”

Jason glanced between Nico and Hazel and then up to the cliffs. “Yeah, okay. Those steps don’t look great. I should be able to use the winds to keep us from coming down the hard way.”

Arion whinnied in protest, as if to say,  _ You’re going without me? You’re kidding, right? _

“I have to, Arion,” Hazel said. “I think that’s the best plan.”

“Only wish I had my sword.” Jason glared at the coach. “It’s back there at the bottom of the sea, and we don’t have Percy to retrieve it.”

The name Percy passed over them like a cloud. The mood on deck got even darker.

“You can use Jack,” Magnus offered.

“No need,” Hazel said. She stretched out her arm. She concentrated on the water and called for Imperial gold.

A stupid idea. The sword was much too far away, probably hundreds of feet underwater. But she felt a quick tug in her fingers, like a bite on a fishing line, and Jason’s blade flew out of the water and into her hand.

“Here,” she said, handing it over.

Jason’s eyes widened. “How… That was like half a mile!”

“I’ve been practising,” she said, though it wasn’t true.

She hoped she hadn’t accidentally cursed Jason’s sword by summoning it, the way she cursed jewels and precious metals. Somehow, though, she thought, weapons were different. After all, she’d raised a bunch of Imperial gold equipment from Glacier Bay and distributed it to the Fifth Cohort. That had worked out okay. She decided not to worry about it. She felt so angry at Hecate and so tired of being manipulated by the gods that she wasn’t going to let any trifling problems stand in her way.

“Now, if there are no other objections, we have a robber to meet,” Hazel said.

“You can do this,” Nico said.

Hazel really wished she believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But wait, you say, didn't Hazel meet Sam when Percy freed Sam, Magnus, and Alex at the end of Son of Neptune? Well, yes, but I don't think Hazel is really interested in remembering a girl she met for five seconds before rushing off to defend Camp Jupiter at this moment. She's a little busy being attacked.
> 
> Anyway... back to school tomorrow. Yay...... I am sooooo ready for Christmas break.


	28. The Anonymous Bandit Tells Us His Name (Hazel XXVIII)

HAZEL LIKED THE GREAT OUTDOORS—but climbing a two-hundred-foot cliff on a stairway without rails, with a bad-tempered weasel on her shoulder? Not so much. Especially when she could have ridden Arion to the top in a matter of seconds.

Jason walked behind her so he could catch her if she fell. Hazel appreciated that, but it didn’t make the sheer drop any less scary.

She glanced to her right, which was a mistake. Her foot almost slipped, sending a spray of gravel over the edge. Gale squeaked in alarm.

“You all right?” Jason asked.

“Yes.” Hazel’s heart jackhammered at her ribs. “Fine.”

She had no room to turn and look at him. She just had to trust he wouldn’t let her plummet to her death. Since he could fly, he was the only logical backup. Well, okay, Frank or Alex could technically fly if they turned into a bird, but Nico had been insistent on Jason going with Hazel and no one else.

Hazel didn’t know what Jason did to earn Nico’s trust. She couldn’t get a read on Jason and Nico wasn’t opening up about whatever it was. Not yet at least. But for whatever reason, Nico seemed to so deeply and inherently trust Jason Grace. If she had to hazard a guess, it would be that Nico and Jason had been friends in Nico’s original time.

But it was more than that. The way Nico looked at Jason and treated him was almost brotherly. Something had happened between Jason and Nico that had caused Nico to give Jason such a huge amount of trust. Hazel wanted to understand it.

Ever since she’d arrived at Camp Jupiter, she’d heard stories about Jason. Hazel had only been there for a short time before Jason disappeared, but the campers spoke with reverence about the son of Jupiter who’d risen from the lowly ranks of the Fifth Cohort to become praetor, led them to victory in the Battle of Mount Tam, then disappeared. Even now, after all the events of the past couple weeks, Jason seemed more like a legend than a person. Hazel had a hard time warming to him, with those icy blue eyes and that careful receive, like he was calculating every word before he said it.

Hazel glanced up. She couldn’t see Sciron from here, but she sensed he was waiting. She was confident she could produce enough gems and gold to impress even the greediest robber. She wondered if the treasures she summoned would still bring bad luck. She’d never been sure whether that curse had been broken when she had died the first time. This seemed like a good opportunity to find out. Anybody who robbed innocent demigods with a giant turtle deserved a few nasty curses.

Gale the weasel jumped off her shoulder and scampered ahead. She glanced back and barked eagerly.

“Going as fast as I can,” Hazel muttered. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the weasel was anxious to watch her fail.

“This, uh, controlling the Mist,” Jason said. “Have you had any luck?”

“No,” Hazel admitted.

She didn’t like to think about her failures—the seagull she couldn’t turn into a dragon, Coach Hedge’s baseball bat stubbornly refusing to turn into a hot dog. She just couldn’t make herself believe any of it was possible.

“You’ll get it,” Jason said.

His tone surprised her. It wasn’t a throwaway comment just to be nice. He sounded truly convinced. She kept climbing, but she imagined him watching her with those piercing blue eyes, his jaw set with confidence.

“How can you be sure?” she asked.

“Other than the fact that your brother seems to think you can?” Jason asked. “I just do. I’ve got a good instinct for what people can do—demigods, anyway. Hecate wouldn’t have picked you if she didn’t believe you had power.”

Maybe that should have made Hazel feel better. It didn’t.

She had a good instinct for people too. She understood what motivated most of her friends—even her brother, Nico, who wasn’t easy to read.

But Jason? She didn’t have a clue. Everybody said he was a natural leader. She believed it. Here he was, making her feel like a valued member of the team, telling her she was capable of anything. But what was Jason capable of?

She couldn’t talk to anyone about her doubts. Frank was in awe of the guy. Piper and Leo were his best friends. And, of course, Nico trusted Jason and followed his lead without question. As for Magnus and Alex… well, Hazel certainly liked them. They were nice, but she didn’t think she knew them well enough to share her worries with.

But Hazel couldn’t forget that Jason had been Hera’s first move in the war against the giants. The Queen of Olympus had dropped Jason into Camp Half-Blood, which had started this entire chain of events to stop Gaea. Why Jason first? Something told Hazel he was the linchpin. Jason would be the final play, too.

_ To storm or fire the world must fall. _ That’s what the prophecy said. As much as Hazel feared fire, she feared storms more. Jason Grace could cause some pretty huge storms.

She glanced up and saw the rim of the cliff only a few yards above her.

She reached the top, breathless and sweaty. A long sloping valley marched inland, dotted with scraggly olive trees and limestone boulders. There were no signs of civilization. Hazel’s legs trembled from the climb. Gale seemed anxious to explore. The weasel barked and farted and scampered into the nearest bushes. Far below, the  _ Argo II _ looked like a toy boat in the channel. Hazel didn’t understand how anyone could shoot an arrow accurately from this high up, accounting for the wind and the glare of the sun off the water. At the mouth of the inlet, the massive shape of the turtle’s shell glinted like a burnished coin.

Jason joined her at the top, looking no worse for the climb. He started to say, “Where—”

“Here!” said a voice.

Hazel flinched. Only ten feet away, a man had appeared, a bow and quiver over his shoulder and two old-fashioned flintlock duelling pistols in his hands. He wore high leather boots, leather breeches and a pirate-style shirt. His curly black hair looked like a little kid’s do and his sparkly green eyes were friendly enough, but a red bandanna covered the lower half of his face.

“Welcome!” the bandit cried, pointing his guns at them. “Your money or your life!”

Hazel was certain that he hadn’t been there a second ago. He’d simply materialized, as if he’d stepped out from behind an invisible curtain.

“You. You’re—”

The bandit laughed. “Sciron, of course! Son of Poseidon! Thief extraordinaire! All-around awesome guy! But that’s not important. I’m not seeing any valuables!” he cried, as if this were excellent news. “I guess that means you want to die?”

“Wait,” Hazel said. “We’ve got valuables. But, if we give them up, how can we be sure you’ll let us go?”

According to Nico and the myths, Sciron killed his victims.

“Oh, they always ask that,” Sciron said. “I promise you, on the River Styx, that as soon as you surrender what I want, I will not shoot you. I will send you right back down that cliff.”

Hazel gave Jason a wary look. River Styx or no, the way Sciron phrased his promise didn’t reassure her.

“What if we fought you?” Jason asked. “You can’t attack us and hold our ship hostage at the same—”

_ BANG! BANG! _

It happened so fast that Hazel’s brain needed a moment to catch up.

Smoke curled from the side of Jason’s head. Just above his left ear, a groove cut through his hair like a racing stripe. One of Sciron’s flintlocks was still pointed at his face. The other flintlock was pointed down, over the side of the cliff, as if Sciron’s second shot had been fired at the  _ Argo II. _

Hazel choked from delayed shock. “What did you do?”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Sciron laughed. “If you could see that far—which you can’t—you’d see a hole in the deck between the shoes of the big young man, the one with the bow.”

“Frank!”

Sciron shrugged. “If you say so. That was just a demonstration. I’m afraid it could have been much more serious.” He spun his flintlocks. The hammers reset, and Hazel had a feeling the guns had just magically reloaded.

Sciron waggled his eyebrows at Jason. “So! To answer your question—yes, I can attack you and hold your ship hostage at the same time. Celestial bronze ammunition. Quite deadly to demigods. You two would die first—bang, bang. Then I could take my time picking off your friends on that ship. Target practice is so much more fun with live targets running around screaming!”

Jason touched the new furrow that the bullet had ploughed through his hair. For once, he didn’t look very confident.

Hazel’s ankles wobbled. Frank was the best shot she knew with a bow, but this bandit Sciron was inhumanly good.

“You’re a son of Poseidon?” she managed. “I would’ve thought Apollo, the way you shoot.”

The smile lines deepened around his eyes. “Why, thank you! It’s just from practice, though. The giant turtle—that’s due to my parentage. You can’t go around taming giant turtles without being a son of Poseidon! I could overwhelm your ship with a tidal wave, of course, but it’s terribly difficult work. Not nearly as fun as ambushing and shooting people.”

Hazel tried to collect her thoughts, stall for time, but it was difficult while staring down the smoking barrels of those flintlocks. “Uh… what’s the bandanna for?”

“So no one recognizes me!” Sciron said.

“But you introduced yourself,” Jason said. “You’re Sciron.”

The bandit’s eyes widened. “How did you—Oh. Yes, I suppose I did.” He lowered one flintlock and scratched the side of his head with the other. “Terribly sloppy of me. Sorry. I’m afraid I’m a little rusty. Back from the dead and all that. Let me try again.” He levelled his pistols. “Stand and deliver! I am an anonymous bandit and you do not need to know my name!”

Hazel’s eyes narrowed. “Theseus killed you once. You’re a returned spirit.”

Sciron’s shoulders slumped. “Now, why did you have to mention him? We were getting along so well! Theseus was such a cheater!” he complained. “I don’t want to talk about him. I’m back from the dead now. Gaea promised me I could stay on the coastline and rob all the demigods I wanted, and that’s what I’m going to do! Now… where were we?”

“You were about to let us go,” Hazel ventured.

“Hmm…” Sciron said. “No, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t it. Ah, right! Money or your life. Where are your valuables? No valuables? Then I’ll have to—”

“Wait,” Hazel said. “I have our valuables. At least, I can get them.”

Sciron pointed a flintlock at Jason’s head. “Well, then, my dear, hop to it, or my next shot will cut off more than your friend’s hair!”

Hazel hardly needed to concentrate. She was so anxious, the ground rumbled beneath her and immediately yielded a bumper crop—precious metals popping to the surface as though the earth was anxious to expel them.

She found herself surrounded by a knee-high mound of treasure—Roman denarii, silver drachmas, ancient gold jewellery, glittering diamonds and topaz and rubies—enough to fill several lawn bags.

Sciron laughed with delight. “How in the world did you do that?”

Hazel didn’t answer. She thought about all the coins that had appeared at the crossroads with Hecate. Here were even more—centuries’ worth of hidden wealth from every empire that had ever claimed this land—Greek, Roman, Byzantine and so many others. Those empires were gone, leaving only a barren coastline for Sciron the bandit.

That thought made her feel small and powerless.

“Just take the treasure,” she said. “Let us go.”

Sciron chuckled. “Oh, but I did say all your valuables. I understand you’re holding something very special on that ship… a certain ivory-and-gold statue about, say, forty feet tall?”

The sweat started to dry on Hazel’s neck, sending a shiver down her back.

Jason stepped forward. Despite the gun pointed at his face, his eyes were as hard as sapphires. “The statue isn’t negotiable.”

Hazel agreed. After what Percy and Annabeth sacrificed to make sure the  _ Argo II _ got that statue, there was no way she was going to let some low-life like Sciron take it.

“You’re right, it’s not!” Sciron agreed. “I must have it!”

“Gaea told you about it,” Hazel guessed. “She ordered you to take it.”

Sciron shrugged. “Maybe. But she told me I could keep it for myself. Hard to pass up that offer! I don’t intend to die again, my friends. I intend to live a long life as a very wealthy man!”

“The statue won’t do you any good,” Hazel said. “Not if Gaea destroys the world.”

The muzzles of Sciron’s pistols wavered. “Pardon?”

“Gaea is using you,” Hazel said. “If you take that statue, we won’t be able to defeat her. She’s planning on wiping all mortals and demigods off the face of the earth, letting her giants and monsters take over. So where will you spend your gold, Sciron? Assuming Gaea even lets you live.” Hazel let that sink in. She figured Sciron would have no trouble believing in double-crosses, being a bandit and all.

He was silent for a count of ten.

Finally his smile lines returned.

“All right!” he said. “I’m not unreasonable. Keep the statue.”

Jason blinked. “We can go?”

“Just one more thing,” Sciron said. “I always demand a show of respect. Before I let my victims leave, I insist that they wash my feet.”

Hazel wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. Then Sciron kicked off his leather boots, one after the other. His bare feet were the most disgusting things Hazel had ever seen… and she had seen some very disgusting things.

They were puffy, wrinkled and white as dough, as if they’d been soaking in formaldehyde for a few centuries. Tufts of brown hair sprouted from each misshapen toe. His jagged toenails were green and yellow, like a tortoise’s shell. Then the smell hit her. Hazel didn’t know if her father’s Underworld palace had a cafeteria for zombies, but if it did that cafeteria would smell like Sciron’s feet.

“So!” Sciron wriggled his disgusting toes. “Who wants the left, and who wants the right?”

Jason’s face turned almost as white as those feet. “You’ve… got to be kidding.”

“Not at all!” Sciron said. “Wash my feet, and we’re done. I’ll send you back down the cliff. I promise on the River Styx.”

He made that promise so easily, alarm bells rang in Hazel’s mind. Feet.  _ Send you back down the cliff. _ Tortoise shell.

_ “He kicks his victims off the cliff and his turtle eats them,” Nico supplied. _

Hazel cleared her throat. “Could we have a moment?”

Sciron’s eyes narrowed. “What for?”

“Well, it’s a big decision,” she said. “Left foot, right foot. We need to discuss.”

She could tell he was smiling under the mask.

“Of course,” he said. “I’m so generous you can have two minutes.”

Hazel climbed out of her pile of treasure. She led Jason as far away as she dared—about fifty feet down the cliff, which she hoped was out of earshot.

“This is what Nico was talking about,” she whispered. “When you kneel down to wash Sciron’s feet, when you’re off-balance, woozy from the smell of his feet, he’ll kick you over the edge. You’ll fall right into the mouth of his giant turtle.”

Jason took a moment to digest that, so to speak. He glanced over the cliff, where the turtle’s massive shell glinted just under the water.

“So we have to fight,”Jason said.

“Sciron’s too fast,” Hazel said. “He’ll kill us both.”

“Then I’ll be ready to fly. When he kicks me over, I’ll float halfway down the cliff. Then when he kicks you, I’ll catch you.”

Hazel shook her head. “If he kicks you hard and fast enough, you’ll be too dazed to fly. And, even if you can, Sciron’s got the eyes of a marksman. He’ll watch you fall. If you hover, he’ll just shoot you out of the air.”

“Then…” Jason clenched his sword hilt. “I hope you have another idea?”

A few feet away, Gale the weasel appeared from the bushes. She gnashed her teeth and peered at Hazel as if to say,  _ Well? Do you? _

Hazel calmed her nerves, trying to avoid pulling more gold from the ground. She remembered the dream she’d had of her father Pluto’s voice:  _ The dead see what they believe they will see. So do the living. That is the secret. _

She understood what she had to do. She hated the idea more than she hated that farting weasel, more than she hated Sciron’s feet.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Hazel said. “We have to let Sciron win.”

“What?” Jason demanded.

Hazel told him the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's go Hazel! You got this, girl!


	29. We Let Sciron Win (Hazel XXIX)

“FINALLY!” SCIRON CRIED. “That was much longer than two minutes!”

“Sorry,” Jason said. “It was a big decision… which foot.”

Hazel tried to clear her mind and imagine the scene through Sciron’s eyes—what he desired, what he expected. That was the key to using the Mist. She couldn’t force someone to see the world her way. She couldn’t make Sciron’s reality appear less believable. But if she showed him what he wanted to see… well, she was a child of Pluto. She’d spent decades with the dead, listening to them yearn for past lives that were only half-remembered, distorted by nostalgia.

_ The dead saw what they believed they would see. So did the living. _

Pluto was the god of the Underworld, the god of wealth. Maybe those two spheres of influence were more connected than Hazel had realized. There wasn’t much difference between longing and greed. If she could summon gold and diamonds, why not summon another kind of treasure—a vision of the world people wanted to see?

Of course she could be wrong, in which case she and Jason were about to be turtle food.

She rested her hand on her jacket pocket, where Frank’s magical firewood seemed heavier than usual. She wasn’t just carrying his lifeline now. She was carrying the lives of the entire crew.

Jason stepped forward, his hands open in surrender. “I’ll go first, Sciron. I’ll wash your left foot.”

“Excellent choice!” Sciron wriggled his hairy, corpse-like toes. “I may have stepped on something with that foot. It felt a little squishy inside my boot. But I’m sure you’ll clean it properly.”

Jason’s ears reddened. From the tension in his neck, Hazel could tell that he was tempted to drop the charade and attack—one quick slash with his Imperial gold blade. But Hazel knew if he tried, he would fail.

“Sciron,” she broke in, “do you have water? Soap? How are we supposed to wash—”

“Like this!” Sciron spun his left flintlock. Suddenly it became a squirt bottle with a rag. He tossed it to Jason.

Jason squinted at the label. “You want me to wash your feet with glass cleaner?”

“Of course not!” Sciron knitted his eyebrows. “It says multi-surface cleanser. My feet definitely qualify as multi-surface. Besides, it’s antibacterial. I need that. Believe me, water won’t do the trick on these babies.” Sciron wiggled his toes, and more zombie café odour wafted across the cliffs.

Jason gagged. “Oh, gods, no…”

Sciron shrugged. “You can always choose what’s in my other hand.” He hefted his right flintlock.

“He’ll do it,” Hazel said.

Jason glared at her, but Hazel won the staring contest.

“Fine,” he muttered.

“Excellent! Now…” Sciron hopped to the nearest chunk of limestone that was the right size for a footstool. He faced the water and planted his foot, so he looked like some explorer who’d just claimed a new country. “I’ll watch the horizon while you scrub my bunions. It’ll be much more enjoyable.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “I bet.”

Jason knelt in front of the bandit, at the edge of the cliff where he was an easy target. One kick and he’d topple over.

Hazel concentrated. She imagined she was Sciron, the lord of bandits. She was looking down at a pathetic blond-haired kid who was no threat at all—just another defeated demigod about to become his victim.

In her mind, she saw what would happen. She summoned the Mist, calling it from the depths of the earth the way she did with gold or silver or rubies.

Jason squirted the cleaning fluid. His eyes watered. He wiped Sciron’s big toe with his rag and turned aside to gag. Hazel could barely watch. When the kick happened, she almost missed it. Sciron slammed his foot into Jason’s chest. Jason tumbled backwards over the edge, his arms flailing, screaming as he fell. When he was about to hit the water, the turtle rose up and swallowed him in one bite, then sank below the surface.

Alarm bells sounded on the  _ Argo II. _ Hazel’s friends scrambled on deck, manning the catapults. Hazel heard Piper and Leo screaming all the way from the ship. It was so disturbing that Hazel almost lost her focus. She forced her mind to split into two parts—one intensely focused on her task, one playing the role Sciron needed to see.

She screamed in outrage. “What did you do?”

“Oh, dear…” Sciron sounded sad, but Hazel got the impression he was hiding a grin under his bandanna. “That was an accident, I assure you.”

“My friends will kill you now!”

“They can try,” Sciron said. “But in the meantime I think you have time to wash my other foot! Believe me, my dear. My turtle is full now. He doesn’t want you too. You’ll be quite safe, unless you refuse.” He levelled the flintlock pistol at her head.

She hesitated, letting him see her anguish. She couldn’t agree too easily, or he wouldn’t think she was beaten.

“Don’t kick me,” she said, half-sobbing.

His eyes twinkled. This was exactly what he expected. She was broken and helpless. Sciron, the son of Poseidon, had won again.

Hazel could hardly believe this guy had the same father as Percy Jackson. Then she remembered that Poseidon had a changeable personality, like the sea. Maybe his children reflected that. Percy was a child of Poseidon’s better nature—powerful, but gentle and helpful, the kind of sea that sped ships safely to distant lands. Sciron was a child of Poseidon’s other side—the kind of sea that battered relentlessly at the coastline until it crumbled away, or carried the innocents from shore and let them drown, or smashed ships and killed entire crews without mercy.

She snatched up the spray bottle Jason had dropped.

“Sciron,” she growled, “your feet are the least disgusting thing about you.”

His green eyes hardened. “Just clean.”

She knelt, trying to ignore the smell. She shuffled to one side, forcing Sciron to adjust his stance, but she imagined that the sea was still at her back. She held that vision in her mind as she shuffled sideways again.

“Just get on with it!” Sciron said.

Hazel suppressed a smile. She’d managed to turn Sciron one-hundred-and-eighty degrees, but he still saw the water in front of him, the rolling countryside at his back.

She started to clean.

Hazel had done plenty of ugly work before. She’d cleaned the unicorn stables at Camp Jupiter. She’d filled and dug latrines for the legion.

_ This is nothing,  _ she told herself. But it was hard not to retch when she looked at Sciron’s toes.

When the kick came, she flew backwards, but she didn’t go far. She landed on her butt in the grass a few yards away.

Sciron stared at her. “But…”

Suddenly the world shifted. The illusion melted, leaving Sciron totally confused. The sea was at his back. He’d only succeeded in kicking Hazel away from the ledge.

He lowered his flintlock. “How—”

“Stand and deliver,” Hazel told him.

Jason swooped out of the sky, right over her head, and body-slammed the bandit over the cliff. Sciron screamed as he fell, firing his flintlock wildly, but for once hitting nothing. Hazel got to her feet. She reached the cliff’s edge in time to see the turtle lunge and snap Sciron out of the air.

Jason grinned. “Hazel, that was amazing. Seriously… Hazel? Hey, Hazel?”

Hazel collapsed to her knees, suddenly dizzy.

Distantly, she could hear her friends cheering from the ship below. Jason stood over her, but he was moving in slow motion, his outline blurry, his voice nothing but static. Frost crept across the rocks and grass around her. The mound of riches she’d summoned sank back into the earth. The Mist swirled.

_ What have I done? _ she thought in a panic.  _ Something went wrong. _

“No, Hazel,” said a deep voice behind her. “You have done well.”

She hardly dared to breathe. She’d only heard that voice once before, but she had replayed it in her mind thousands of times.

She turned and found herself looking up at her father.

He was dressed in Roman style—his dark hair close-cropped, his pale angular face clean-shaven. His tunic and toga were of black wool, embroidered with threads of gold. The faces of tormented souls shifted in the fabric. The edge of his toga was lined with the crimson of a senator or a praetor, but the stripe rippled like a river of blood. On Pluto’s ring finger was a massive opal, like a chunk of polished frozen Mist.

_ His wedding ring, _ Hazel thought. But Pluto had never married Hazel’s mother. Gods did not marry mortals. That ring would signify his marriage to Persephone.

The thought made Hazel so angry, she shook off her dizziness and stood.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

She hoped her tone would hurt him—jab him for all the pain he’d caused her. But a faint smile played across his mouth.

“My daughter,” he said. “I am impressed. You have grown strong.”

_ No thanks to you, _ she wanted to say. She didn’t want to take any pleasure in his compliment, but her eyes still prickled.

“I thought you major gods were incapacitated,” she managed. “Your Greek and Roman personalities fighting against one another.”

“We are,” Pluto agreed. “But you invoked me so strongly that you allowed me to appear… if only for a moment.”

“I didn’t invoke you.”

But, even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. For the first time, willingly, she’d embraced her lineage as a child of Pluto. She’d tried to understand her father’s powers and use them to the fullest.

“When you come to my house in Epirus,” Pluto said, “you must be prepared. The dead will not welcome you. And the sorceress Pasiphaë—”

“Pacify?” Hazel asked. Then she realized that must be the woman’s name.

“She will not be fooled as easily as Sciron.” Pluto’s eyes glittered like volcanic stone. “You succeeded in your first test, but Pasiphaë intends to rebuild her domain, which will endanger all demigods. Unless you stop her at the House of Hades…”

His form flickered. For a moment he was bearded, in Greek robes with a golden laurel wreath in his hair. Around his feet, skeletal hands broke through the earth.

The god gritted his teeth and scowled.

His Roman form stabilized. The skeletal hands dissolved back into the earth.

“We do not have much time.” He looked like a man who’d just been violently ill. “Know that the Doors of Death are at the lowest level of the Necromanteion. You must make Pasiphaë see what she wants to see. You are right. That is the secret to all magic. But it will not be easy when you are in her maze.”

“What do you mean? What maze?”

“You will understand,” he promised. “And, Hazel Levesque… you will not believe me, but I am proud of your strength. Sometimes… sometimes the only way I can care for my children is to keep my distance.”

Hazel bit back an insult. Pluto was just another deadbeat godly dad making weak excuses. But her heart pounded as she replayed his words: I am proud of your strength.

“Go to your friends,” Pluto said. “They will be worried. The journey to Epirus still holds many perils.”

“Wait,” Hazel said.

Pluto raised an eyebrow.

“When I met Thanatos,” she said, “you know… Death… he told me I wasn’t on your list of rogue spirits to capture. He said maybe that’s why you were keeping your distance. If you acknowledged me, you’d have to take me back to the Underworld.”

Pluto waited. “What is your question?”

“You’re here. Why don’t you take me to the Underworld? Return me to the dead?”

Pluto’s form started to fade. He smiled, but Hazel couldn’t tell if he was sad or pleased. “Perhaps that is not what I want to see, Hazel. Perhaps I was never here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really understand the Mist in this scene. My best guess is when Jason turns away, he actually walked away and Hazel keeps up the illusion that he's really there. Because she says that if Sciron kicks him, he'll be too dazed to fly away from the turtle, so Jason can't have gotten kicked, right? I don't know. If anyone can explain this to me, that would be so very much appreciated.


	30. You Get a Curse and You Get a Curse... Wait, No You Don't (Percy XXX)

PERCY WAS NOT RELIEVED when the demon grandmothers closed in for the kill.

It seemed like forever ago when he had first pondered whether the Achilles Curse would grant him invincibility to these curses, but in all that time, he hadn’t actually figured out an answer. He didn’t know if the Curse would protect him or just make things worse. Percy really would rather not chance it.

“Back off.” Percy jabbed Riptide at the nearest shrivelled hag, but she only sneered.

_ We are the arai,  _ said that weird voice-over, like the entire forest was speaking.  _ You cannot destroy us. _

Annabeth pressed against his shoulder. “Don’t touch them,” she warned. “They’re the spirits of curses.”

“Bob doesn’t like curses,” Bob decided. The skeleton kitten Small Bob disappeared inside his coveralls. Smart cat. The Titan swept his broom in a wide arc, forcing the spirits back, but they came in again like the tide.

_ We serve the bitter and the defeated, _ said the arai.  _ We serve the slain who prayed for vengeance with their final breath. We have many curses to share with you. _

The firewater in Percy’s stomach started crawling up his throat. He wished Tartarus had better beverage options, or maybe a tree that dispensed antacid fruit.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said. “But my mom told me not to accept curses from strangers.”

The nearest demon lunged. Her claws extended like bony switchblades. Percy cut her in two, but as soon as she vaporized the sides of his chest flared with pain. He stumbled back, clamping his hand to his rib cage.

“Percy!” Annabeth cried.

Percy pulled his hands away. Unlike before, they weren’t stained red. He wasn’t bleeding. He just hurt like Hades.

_ The Curse of Achilles protects you from death, son of Poseidon, _ the arai hissed.  _ Not from the pain of the curse. Perhaps death would be kinder. How much can you take before you succumb to it? _

That answered that question.

As a demigod, Percy liked to think he had a pretty good pain tolerance. He needed it to be able to keep fighting despite broken ankles or wrists. Or ignore the sharp pains of arrows and swords cutting him. But most of the curses his enemies inflicted on him were meant to kill him. How long  _ could _ he last against that.

“We need to get out of here,” Percy groaned.

Somehow he stayed on his feet, but he felt like he had a hot metal curtain rod sticking through his ribs. His sword arm was heavy and weak.

“If you kill one, it gives you a curse,” Bob muttered.

“And if we don’t kill them, they’ll kill us anyway,” Annabeth said.

_ Choose! _ the arai cried.  _ Will you be crushed like Kampê? Or disintegrated like the young telkhines you slaughtered under Mount St Helens? You have spread so much death and suffering, Percy Jackson. Let us repay you! _

One of the demons lunged at Annabeth. Instinctively, she dodged. She brought her knife down on the old lady and slashed her into dust. It wasn’t like Annabeth had a choice. Percy would’ve done the same thing. But instantly Annabeth dropped her dagger and cried in alarm.

“I can’t see!” She touched her face, looking around wildly. Her eyes were pure white.

Percy ran to her side as the arai cackled.

_ Polyphemus cursed you when you tricked him with your invisibility in the Sea of Monsters. You called yourself Nobody. He could not see you. Now you will not see your attackers. _

“I’ve got you,” Percy promised. “They can’t kill me. I can take care of this.”

A dozen demons leaped from every direction, but Bob yelled, “SWEEP!” His broom whooshed over Percy’s head. The entire arai offensive line toppled backwards like bowling pins.

More surged forward. Bob whacked one over the head and speared another, blasting them to dust. The others backed away.

“Bob, you okay?” Percy asked. “No curses?”

“No curses for Bob!” Bob agreed.

The arai snarled and circled, eying the broom.  _ The Titan is already cursed. Why should we torture him further? You, Percy Jackson, have already destroyed his memory. _

Bob flinched. “Percy is my friend.”

_ Curse him, Titan! _ the arai urged, their red eyes gleaming.  _ Add to our numbers! _

“NO!” Bob yelled, his broom sweeping more arai into dust.

“Bob, come on!” Percy shouted. He gripped Annabeth’s hand and tugged her to follow him away from the arai.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made it so that Percy can still get cursed, but since he's already cursed the curses can't actually kill him, just, you know, cause him great amounts of pain. And of course so we aren't overpowering him, he can still die from the curses it would just take a long time. Like... until he just decides to give up because of all the pain he's in.
> 
> Oooooh, that got dark. My bad.
> 
> Aaaaand shine a little light on this: Bob doesn't turn on them! Yay!


	31. Demons Are Backstabbers (Percy XXXI)

“LEFT!” PERCY DRAGGED ANNABETH, slicing through the arai to clear a path. He probably brought down a dozen curses on himself, but he didn’t feel them right away, so he kept running.

The pain in his chest flared with every step. He weaved between the trees, leading Annabeth at a full sprint despite her blindness.

Bob thundered along behind them. Every once in a while Percy would see a flash of his broom lash out and kill a group of arai.

As they ran past one of the black trees, Percy slashed his sword across the trunk. He heard it topple, followed by the satisfying crunch of several dozen arai as they were smashed flat.

_ If a tree falls in the forest and crushes a demon, does the tree get cursed? _

Percy slashed down another trunk, then another. It bought them a few seconds, but not enough. Suddenly the darkness in front of them became thicker. Percy realized what it meant just in time. He grabbed Annabeth right before they both charged off the side of the cliff.

“What?” she cried. “What is it?”

“Cliff,” he gasped. “Big cliff.”

“Which way, then?”

Percy couldn’t see how far the cliff dropped. It could be ten feet or a thousand. There was no telling what was at the bottom. Besides, the arai would be here any second.

“Bob, are you sure you’re okay?” Percy asked. “No curses? Not even after what you said about us being friends?”

“No curses,” Bob confirmed.

A winged demon descended in front of Percy, hovering over the void on her bat wings, just out of sword reach.

_ Did you have a nice walk?  _ asked the collective voice, echoing all around them.

Percy turned. The arai poured out of the woods, making a crescent around them. One grabbed Annabeth’s arm.

“NO!” Percy shouted, slicing with Riptide. Something hit his chest like a ton of bricks. He stumbled backward.

“Percy?” Annabeth called hesitantly.

“Fine,” Percy gasped. “Just sucker punched.”

_ A curse multiplied, _ the arai said.  _ For the same death twice, he curses you twice. _

“Twice…?” Percy muttered. “The Minotaur?”

An arai flew at Annabeth. Percy didn’t know how she knew, but Annabeth instinctively swung her dagger and the demon dissolved with a hiss.

Immediately, Annabeth fell to her knees. Her dagger clattered out of her hands.

“Annabeth!” Percy cried.

Bob swung his broom and dissolved a row of demons. The others hissed and moved out of range.

There was a red stain on the back of Annabeth’s shirt.

_ The demon that hates you most of all. How does it feel to be stabbed in the back? _

“Kelli,” Percy growled.

“Percy,” Annabeth whispered.

Percy clenched his jaw. He didn’t care how many curses he suffered. He had to keep these leathery old hags focused on him and protect Annabeth as long as he could.

He glared at the arai. “I’m going to kill you all,” he announced. He yelled in fury and attacked them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to have Calypso cursing Annabeth this time, so I made it Kelli's curse instead.
> 
> I think this time around, Percy was already with Annabeth and it was fairly obvious that Percy would not return Calypso's feelings, so it's not as if Annabeth stole Percy away from Calypso because Annabeth already had Percy's heart. Plus, Percy told Calypso that one day there would be someone who would break her curse. So that's that.


	32. Bob Knows How to Use a Broom (Percy XXXII)

FOR ONE EXCITING MINUTE, Percy felt like he was winning. Riptide cut through the arai as though they were made of powdered sugar. One panicked and ran face-first into a tree. Another screeched and tried to fly away, but Percy sliced off her wings and sent her spiralling into the chasm.

Each time a demon disintegrated, Percy felt a heavier sense of dread as another curse settled on him. Some were harsh and painful: a stabbing in the gut, a burning sensation like he was being blasted by a blowtorch. Some were subtle: a chill in the blood, an uncontrollable tic in his right eye.

Seriously, who curses you with their dying breath and says:  _ I hope your eye twitches! _ Percy really wanted to find out who did that. He might actually thank them. At least it was one curse that was relatively harmless.

Bob was busy fending off the few arai that tried to go for Annabeth while Percy was distracted. He was grateful to the Titan for his help.

But the arai just kept coming. For every one he cut down, six more seemed to appear.

His sword arm grew tired. His body ached, and his vision blurred. The Curse of Achilles might protect him from physical harm, but it acted as if he was really in battle using the Curse to protect himself from harm. Percy could feel his drowsiness and need to take a nap settling in.

That’s when he made his mistake.

A demon lunged at him and he sliced the demon to dust, but immediately fell to his knees. His mouth burned worse than when he had swallowed the firewater of the Phlegethon. He doubled over, shuddering and retching, as a dozen fiery snakes seemed to work their way down his oesophagus.

_ You have chosen, _ said the voice of the arai,  _ the curse of Phineas… an excellent painful death. _

Percy tried to speak. His tongue felt like it was being microwaved. He remembered the old blind king who had chased harpies through Portland with a weed whacker. Percy had challenged him to a contest, and the loser had drunk a deadly vial of gorgon’s blood. Percy didn’t remember the old blind man muttering a final curse, but as Phineas had dissolved and returned to the Underworld he probably hadn’t wished Percy a long and happy life.

After Percy’s victory then, Gaea had warned him:  _ Do not press your luck. When your death comes, I promise it will be much more painful than gorgon’s blood. _

Now he was in Tartarus, dying from gorgon’s blood plus a dozen other agonizing curses, while he watched his girlfriend stumble around, helpless and blind and literally stabbed in the back. He clutched his sword. His knuckles started to steam. White smoke curled off his forearms.

The Curse of Achilles would protect him from swords and arrows and overly strong people who try to beat him up, but the one thing it could  _ not _ protect him from was poison. And of course, he had poisoned someone.

The arai clustered around him, snickering and hissing.

_ His head will erupt first, _ the voice speculated.

_ No, _ the voice answered itself from another direction.  _ He will combust all at once. _

They were placing bets on how he would die… what sort of scorch mark he would leave on the ground.

“Bob,” he croaked. “Now would be a good time to sweep up some trash.” He raised his eyes one last time. His surroundings seemed to flicker. The sky boiled and the ground blistered.

Percy realized that what he saw of Tartarus was only a watered-down version of its true horror—only what his demigod brain could handle. The worst of it was veiled, the same way the Mist veiled monsters from mortal sight. Now as Percy died he began to see the truth.

The air was the breath of Tartarus. All these monsters were just blood cells circulating through his body. Everything Percy saw was a dream in the mind of the dark god of the pit. He had no idea how Nico had gotten away twice with his sanity mostly intact.

Bob looked over. He lumbered towards Percy as Small Bob leapt down to protect Annabeth.

“SWEEP! The Titan yelled.

The arai in front of him exploded into dust.

* * *

Bob slashed back and forth, destroying the demons one after the other while Small Bob the kitten prowled around Annabeth, hissing at any demons that got near her. In a matter of seconds, the arai were gone. Most had been vaporized. The smart ones had flown off into the darkness, shrieking in terror.

Percy wanted to thank the Titan, but his voice wouldn’t work. His limbs were weak. His ears rang. Through a red glow of pain, he saw Annabeth a few yards away, laying limply on the ground.

“Uh!” Percy grunted.

Bob followed his gaze. He bounded towards Annabeth and scooped her up. He carried her over to Percy and put her down gently.

The Titan touched her back. “Owie.”

Annabeth sat up quickly. She blinked rapidly. “Where—what—?” She saw Percy, and a series of expressions flashed across her face—relief, joy, shock, horror. “What’s wrong with him?” she cried. “What happened?” She cradled his shoulders and wept into his scalp.

Percy wanted to tell her it was okay, but of course it wasn’t. He couldn’t even feel his body any more. His consciousness was like a small helium balloon, loosely tied to the top of his head. It had no weight, no strength. It just kept expanding, getting lighter and lighter. He knew that soon it would either burst or the string would break, and his life would float away.

Annabeth took his face in her hands. She kissed him and tried to wipe the dust and sweat from his eyes.

Bob loomed over them, his broom planted like a flag. His face was unreadable, luminously white in the dark.

“Lots of curses,” Bob said. “Percy has done bad things to monsters.”

“Poison,” Percy choked out. “Phineas.”

Annabeth seemed to understand what that meant at least. “Gorgon’s blood,” she told Bob. “It’s gorgon’s blood that’s poisoning him. Can you do something about it?”

Bob crouched next to her and studied Percy. His face looked haggard and careworn, as if he suddenly felt the weight of all his centuries. He touched Percy’s forehead.

“Owie,” the Titan murmured. “Very big owie.”

Percy sank back into his body. The ringing in his ears faded. His vision cleared. He still felt like he had swallowed a deep fryer. His insides bubbled. He could sense that the poison had only been slowed, not removed.

But he was alive.

He tried to meet Bob’s eyes, to express his gratitude. His head lolled against his chest.

“Bob cannot cure this,” Bob said. “Too much poison.”

Annabeth hugged Percy’s shoulders. He wanted to say:  _ I can feel that now. Ow. Too tight. _

“What can we do, Bob?” Annabeth asked. “Is there water anywhere? Water might heal him.”

“No water,” Bob said. “Tartarus is bad.”

_ I noticed, _ Percy wanted to yell.

“No,” Annabeth insisted. “No, there has to be a way. Something to heal him.”

Bob placed his hand on Percy’s chest. A cold tingle like eucalyptus oil spread across his sternum, but as soon as Bob lifted his hand the relief stopped. Percy’s lungs felt as hot as lava again.

“Tartarus kills demigods,” Bob said. “It heals monsters, but you do not belong. Tartarus will not heal Percy. The pit hates your kind.”

“I don’t care,” Annabeth said. “Even here, there has to be someplace he can rest, some kind of cure he can take.”

In the distance, a deep voice bellowed—a voice that Percy recognized, unfortunately.

“I SMELL HIM!” roared the giant. “BEWARE, SON OF POSEIDON! I COME FOR YOU!”

“Polybotes,” Bob said. “He hates Poseidon and his children. He is very close now.”

Annabeth struggled to get Percy to his feet. He hated making her work so hard, but he felt like a sack of billiard balls. Even with Annabeth supporting almost all his weight, he could barely stand.

“There is one place,” Bob said. “There is a giant who might know what to do.”

“A giant,” Annabeth repeated. “A good giant?”

“Always one good one,” Bob nodded. “I will take you… unless Polybotes and the others catch us first.”

That was all Percy managed to hear before his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I combined the last two chapters of this Percy chunk so I could give you a long awaited answer that honestly none of you probably remember and I won't be offended if you don't because I barely remembered myself.
> 
> Now. What is Percy dreaming about...?


	33. Nereus Gives Me An Answer (Percy XXXIII)

IN HIS DREAM, Percy was back in San Francisco.

Zoë Nightshade, Thalia, Nico, Annabeth, Grover, and Magnus were with him. They were gathered outside the Goodwill drop box.

“Oh yeah,” Grover said, looking like he was trying not to burst out laughing, “you look completely inconspicuous now.”

Percy looked down at the ragged flannel shirt and jeans three sizes too big. He had bright red sneakers and if the brim of the hat that flopped down was any indication, he was also wearing a rainbow hat.

Nico and Annabeth were having a difficult time trying not to laugh. Thalia, on the other hand, was doubled over laughing.

Zoë nodded with satisfaction. “A typical male vagrant.”

“Thanks a lot,” Percy grumbled. “Is it too late to take up Magnus on his offer?”

“Yeah,” Magnus said cheerfully. “I’m not wearing that.”

Zoë led Percy to a pier where a bunch of homeless guys were huddled together in blankets, waiting for the soup kitchen to open for lunch.

“He will be down there somewhere,” Zoë said. “He never travels very far from the water. He likes to sun himself during the day.”

“How do I know which one is him?”

“Sneak up,” she said. “Act homeless. You will know him. He will smell... different.”

“Great,” Percy said sarcastically. “And once I find him?”

“Grab him,” Zoë said. “And hold on. He will try anything to get rid of thee. Whatever he does, do not let go. Force him to tell thee about the monster.”

“We’ve got your back,” Thalia said. She picked something off the back of Percy’s shirt. “Eww. On second thought… I don’t want your back. But we’ll be rooting for you.”

Grover gave him a big thumbs-up.

Percy grumbled a bit then headed down towards the dock. He passed a few homeless guys before finally reaching the end of the pier. He stopped briefly and then sat down next to the old Santa Claus’s evil twin guy. Then, he jumped at the guy.

The old guy and Percy rolled around, wrestling before the old guy, Nereus, jumped off the edge of the pier and into the water. He changed into a seal.

Despite the ocean filling Percy with strength, the seal was hard to hold onto. If he hadn’t been Poseidon’s son, he would have lost his grip instantly.

Nereus spun and expanded, turning into a killer whale, but Percy grabbed his dorsal fin as he burst out of the water. Percy managed to wave to all the tourists.

Nereus plunged into the water and turned into a slimy eel. Percy started to tie him into a know until he realized what was going on and changed back to human form.

“Why won’t you drown?” Nereus wailed, pummelling Percy with his fists.

“I’m Poseidon’s son,” Percy said. “And I want to make you a deal.”

Nereus’ eyes gleamed. “A deal? What kind of deal?”

“Answer my question and help me trick my friends,” Percy said. “One of my friends is a Norse demigod. We ended up in the same place at the same time for a reason. What do we have to do?”

“Norse?” Nereus repeated. He grinned. “What an interesting situation you find yourself in now! Now, what do you do about that?

“The Norse and Greek spheres have never had any issues,” Nereus said. “Not like the Greeks and the Romans. But they have always,  _ always _ remained separate. The clashing of the two worlds—ah, poor word choice. The clashing of the two  _ spheres _ does not bode well for the future. Your Norse friends? They’re as much a part of your fate as you are a part of theirs now. Your strings have been woven together. When the time comes, they will fight your enemies whether it be with you or for you. And when the time comes for Ragnarok, you—and/or your Greek friends—will be there to fight with the Norse.”

Nereus fixed Percy with a piercing look. “What do you have to do? You don’t  _ have _ to do anything. But know this. You cannot cheat the Fates or the Norns. Events will conspire to keep you together. If you fight them, they will fight back.”

“No. No, we didn’t choose this,” Percy said, face pale.

“Didn’t you?” Nereus said. “The day you chose to bring a Norse demigod to your camp. You didn’t bring Magnus Chase to Camp Half-Blood and  _ not  _ expect your two pantheons to become intertwined, did you?”

“That’s not fair, they took Alex!” Percy protested. “We didn’t  _ have _ a choice. We didn’t know!”

“I answered your question!” Nereus said. “And now the tricking of your friends!” he said gleefully. “How do we do that?”

His dream shifted. Now Percy was at Camp Half-Blood, standing beside Thalia’s tree and holding a crying Annabeth.

“She’s gone,” she sobbed. “Percy, she’s gone. I… I  _ wanted _ to get to know my aunt, and now she’s dead! Again! And Magnus… Magnus… Oh gods, Percy. He lost her the same way. It’s not fair.”

Percy rubbed Annabeth’s back, but he could feel his own guilt screaming at him to back away.

_ “You cannot cheat the Fates or the Norns. Events will conspire to keep you together. If you fight them, they will fight back.” _

Nereus’s warning haunted him. If Magnus had stayed at Camp Half-Blood like Alex had chosen to do, would Natalie Chase still be alive? Was this one of the events that would try to keep them together?

Again, the dream changed. This time, Percy was standing in the middle of prison. Only three cells were occupied. He paused outside of one cell.

“Rescue party’s here,” he announced.

Magnus jumped to his feet and hurried to the bars just as Percy used Riptide to slash the locks and open the door.

“I have never been so happy to see you before,” Magnus said.

“I missed you, too,” Percy said sarcastically. He moved to the first cell and opened the door. “Hey, Alex. Long time.”

Alex gave Percy an unimpressed look. “Took your time, Jackson. How’d you find us?”

Percy scowled. “Neck butt.”

“Neck what?” Alex asked, looking startled. “Was that supposed to be an insult?”

“Not you,” Percy said. “I mean, it’s because of Neck butt. It’s a long story. Come on, I’m getting you two out of here.”

At the time, Percy had chalked his rescue of the Norse demigods up to his experience with the Egyptian Duat. He’d been the host for the goddess Nekhbet and had seen the Duat then. It must have made him more sensitive to the layers of mystical reality shrouding.

But had the Fates or the Norns really engineered this too? It was too much of a coincidence that Magnus, Alex, and Sam were being held in Alaska in the same place Percy was going on a quest to. And Percy didn’t believe in coincidences.

Then there was the part that really bothered him.

_ “When the time comes, they will fight your enemies whether it be with you or for you. And when the time comes for Ragnarok, you—and/or your Greek friends—will be there to fight with the Norse.” _

Magnus and Alex had been there during the Battle of Manhattan. They were on the  _ Argo II _ with the rest of the Seven and probably would help defeat Gaea. But the prophecy said  _ seven _ and Magnus and Alex made seven become nine.

_ “They will fight your enemies whether it be with you or for you.” _

Was there a chance that Percy and Annabeth wouldn’t make it out of Tartarus?

_ “When the time comes for Ragnarok, you—and/or your Greek friends—will be there to fight with the Norse.” _

That offered no reassurance of escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, remember this back in Titan's Curse and Percy's reaction to the (presumably at the time) bad answer I teased in Battle of the Labyrinth? Yeah, well, here's the conversation! It's only a couple stories later than it actually happened in.


	34. Connor Stoll Gets Mail From Hell (Will XXXIV)

EVER SINCE THE END OF JUNE WHEN HE HAD FIRST found out about what Nico had done, Will’s overall mood hadn’t improved. He tried to keep up his sunny demeanor, especially when he was working in the infirmary, but his friends and siblings had all noticed it. July 1st had been the worst.

He’d shouted at Michael and Clarisse while they were going at each other for the hundredth time that summer. The two head counselors were known for not getting along very well, and Will was usually able to calm them down before it escalated. This time, however, he threatened to extract promises from the rest of his siblings not to heal them if they were injured.

“I swear to all the gods!” Will screamed. “Shut. Up. If you two don’t put aside whatever differences you have, your next injury will stay unhealed until you resolve your issues or until it heals by itself! Whichever comes first!”

Clarisse raised an eyebrow at Will. “And if I don’t get injured?”

“Then so help me, I will break into your cabin and injure you MYSELF!”

Bianca di Angelo grabbed Will’s wrist. “Let’s go for a walk. You two,” she said, looking at Michael and Clarisse. “Drop it. Please.” She led Will away from the fight.

“Sorry,” Will said, after a moment.

“Everyone’s anxious,” Bianca shrugged. “You more than most. But then again, you know what’s happening. Sometimes I think you’re lucky. Other times, I think you’re cursed. Right now it’s the last one.”

Will sighed. “I’m just worried. About Nico. About Percy and Annabeth. All of them.”

Bianca placed a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Will… Nico’s alive. That’s what I was coming to tell you. I felt this… I don’t know how to describe it. A rush of life? The absence of death? Whatever it was, I felt it for Nico. They saved him.”

Will’s heart lifted. Then it quickly sank again. “Percy and Annabeth?”

“Falling, but… alive,” Bianca said. “It’s getting easier to sense them. It’s miniscule, but they’re falling closer and closer to the Underworld every second. They’ll be there in a few days.”

“Bianca!” Allegra Nakamura ran up to them. “Oh, hey, Will.”

“Allegra,” Bianca smiled. “What’s up?”

Allegra looked worried. “Chiron just heard. The Romans have set up a base in Manhattan.”

“Oh gods,” Bianca said. She looked at Will. “I thought—”

“They won’t attack yet,” Will said. “The Romans were battle strategists. They’ll plan this out carefully.”

“Chiron asked Clarisse to organize a patrol schedule and the Hephaestus cabin is already working on weapons,” Allegra said.

“Excellent,” Will muttered. “Just what we need.”

Bianca elbowed him. “Hey.”

“Don’t come crying to me when the Camp burns down.”

* * *

The Camp did almost burn down.

Will was sure the Stolls meant well. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t ever tempted to bash their heads together to try and knock some sense into them.

Will had finally finished patching up scraps from Capture the Flag when there was a loud explosion coming from the direction of the forges.

“Oh gods what now?” Kayla muttered tonelessly.

They peered outside and their jaws dropped.

Campers ran around trying to put out the flames, but only succeeding in making things worse. The Demeter children were actually making some progress in putting out the flames, but Will attributed that to their desperation to save the grass and flowers and trees growing around Camp. Clarisse shouted out orders which, if anyone was listening and not panicking, would have helped stop the fires from spreading.

“Sorry!” Jake Mason shouted. There was a smile on his face though, so Will wasn’t entirely sure he was actually very sorry at all.

“What the actual Hades?” Kayla gasped.

“STOLLS!” Will shouted.

“Why do you assume  _ we _ had anything to do with this?” Connor Stoll asked from the wall he was leaning against. His brother Travis was next to him and they were watching the carnage unfold.

“Maybe because we know you two,” Will said.

Beckendorf and Harley were frantically rigging together a giant hose to put out the flames.

Chiron cantered into the cabin area. “What is going on here?”

“Sorry!” Beckendorf called. “Flamethrower.” He cranked a lever and a jet of water streamed out of the hose and doused the camp, putting out the flames.

Nyssa crossed her arms. “Stolls!”

Travis and Connor winced.

She marched over with an angry look. “What the Hades do you think you were doing?”

“Should have known it was them,” Katie Gardner scowled.

“ _ Someone _ ,” Nyssa said pointedly, “got access to one of our flamethrowers.”

Connor and Travis had twin looks of innocence on their faces.

“What?” Travis protested. “It was just sitting in the middle of the forges.”

“Yeah, it was just begging to be tested out,” Connor added.

Chiron seemed like he was trying not to throttle them. “Yes, well, it would not do to do the Romans the favor of destroying our camp for them.”

Good old Chiron. He knew how to kill a mood.

“That was entertaining,” Cecil said, coming up to Will with Lou Ellen at his side.

“Please tell me you had nothing to do with this.”

Cecil grinned. “Oh no. This was all my brothers. Not I. And, Will, can I say how offended I am that you think I could possibly burn down the camp at such a time as when we are on the brink of war with the Romans?”

Will rolled his eyes. “Just double checking. Don’t suppose you know what those two were thinking?”

“Well, they aren’t wrong,” Cecil shrugged. “Flamethrower just sitting there is begging to be tested. If not the Hephaestus kids, than who? Us!”

“That’s horrible philosophy,” Lou Ellen said.

“Thank you,” Will said gratefully.

“Even if they do test it, you should test it anyway,” Lou Ellen continued.

Will sighed. “You guys,” he complained.

Lou Ellen snickered. “What? Live a little, am I right?”

Will sighed.

* * *

A few days later the flamethrower incident was all but forgotten when the sacrificial fire burned a little brighter at dinner. It startled most of the campers, but not Will. He had been waiting for this moment.

He was sure everyone thought he was insanely crazy for sacrificing such huge portions of food to the gods, but as long as it helped, he didn’t mind. He didn’t know when Percy and Annabeth would be at the Hermes shrine, but until Connor Stoll got the note from Annabeth, Will would continue to make large sacrifices to Hermes.

Still, seeing the fire flare up caused his heart to start pounding. What if something went wrong? What if his extra sacrifices messed things up?

“There’s something in the fire!” someone cried out. “It… it looks like a note!”

Connor jolted and ran over, holding a pair of tongs. He stared at them for a moment before reaching into the fire and pulling out an unscorched napkin. His face was pale and confused. Just as he grabbed the napkin from the tongs, they dissolved into nothingness.

“What is it?” Chiron asked sternly. “I do hope this isn’t a Hermes prank.”

Connor shook his head. “No, I swear we didn’t do this. I…” he trailed off. “It’s addressed to me.”

Next to Will, Rachel raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, it’s addressed to you?”

“That’s what it says,” Connor protested. “It says:  _ Connor, Give this to Rachel. Not a prank. Don’t be a moron. Love, Annabeth. _ ” He paused. “She thinks I’m a moron?”

Rachel jumped up and ran to Connor. “It’s from Annabeth? How? Why did she send us a napkin in the fire?” She snatched the note from Connor’s hands.

“Uh, Connor?” Travis called uncertainly. “Didn’t those tongs say they were for-”

“What does it say, Dare?” Clarisse shouted out.

“Wait,” Travis said, “I don’t think you should read this aloud. Right now.”

Rachel waved him off. “Oh come on, Travis. Everyone deserves to know how the quest is going.”

Will agreed with Travis. He remembered the shock and anguish the note had caused the first time it was read. But there was nothing he could do to prevent Rachel from reading the note aloud. Not without some serious questions about how he knew what happened.

He also agreed with Rachel that they all had a right to know what was going on. Keeping information hidden… well, Will wasn’t exactly in a place to judge since that was exactly what he was doing, but information like this shouldn’t be hidden. He just wished they could break the news nicer.

_ “Rachel,” _ she began.  _ “It’s Annabeth. I know you probably have lots of questions about how I’m getting this to you, but that can wait. When we got to Rome, I went off on a quest of my own to follow the Mark of Athena. Percy, Jason, Piper, Magnus, Alex, and the two Romans Hazel and Frank went looking for Nico. The giants captured him and used him as bait for us. Nico’s safe now, they managed to defeat the two giants holding him.” _

Will knew Nico was fine, but hearing it confirmed was a weight lifted from his shoulders. He let out a breath and sagged in relief.

_ “My quest took me below Rome,” _ Rachel continued.  _ “That’s where I fought Arachne and defeated her to free the Athena Parthenos.” _

“The Athena Parthenos?” Malcolm yelped. “Mom’s statue has been lost for centuries! Annabeth found it. Wait. Did you say  _ Arachne _ was guarding it?”

Rachel nodded. Her face shone with admiration for her friend. “I can’t believe it. Annabeth faced her!”

“What happened?” Malcolm pressed. “Keep reading.”

_ “The crew managed to secure the statue before the cavern collapsed,” _ Rachel read.  _ “It’s with them now on the Argo II _ . _ They’re taking it with them to Epirus.” _

“Why does that sound like Annabeth isn’t with the rest of the crew?” Allegra asked quietly.

Will caught Bianca’s eyes. The daughter of Hades was biting her lip.

Rachel began reading again, but she was more hesitant.  _ “Nico found the location of the Doors. One side is in Epirus. The rest of the crew is going there. Percy and I are going to the other side.” _

Both the Stoll brothers had turned shades of white that could rival a sheet of paper.

_ “The other side of the Doors are in Tartarus,” _ Rachel gasped.

The dining pavilion fell silent.

“Repeat that, Dare?” Clarisse said, eyes narrowed.

_ “The other side of the Doors are in Tartarus,” _ Rachel choked. “Chiron—”

Chiron took the note from her. “I’ll finish this, child.” His eyes were watery and red.  _ “You must find Reyna and convince her to journey to the House of Hades is Epirus. She’s a praetor at Camp Jupiter and it must be her to return the statue to Camp Half-Blood. Only this can heal the rift between us. It can prevent a civil war.” _

“How can a statue prevent a war?” Katie asked incredulously. “And who cares about the statue now? We should be figuring out how to free them from Tartarus.”

“No!” Ethan said firmly. “The statue is what my mother told me about. It’s the object the Seven were going to find. If we can heal the rift between us and the Romans, we can restore the gods to their minds. We could prevent Gaea from waking. Annabeth’s right, you have to do this, Rachel.”

“There’s more,” Chiron said.  _ “I know you can do this Rachel. Don’t worry about us, we’re together and we’re going to find a way out. We  _ will  _ see you for the final battle with Gaea. All our love, Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson.” _

“The note on the tongs said ‘For plucking the Tartarus napkin from the fire. One use only,’” Connor said when he regained his voice. “I… I didn’t know it would be them.”

Chiron looked at Rachel. “Rachel, they asked you to go to Reyna.”

Rachel took a deep breath. “I’ll go,” Rachel said immediately. “If this can end the fighting between Greeks and Romans, I’ll do it. Annabeth risked a lot to get me this message. I have to honor her request.”

“Then I would ask that you take someone with you,” Chiron said.

“I’ll take Grover,” Rachel said. “I know he’s heard evidence of Gaea’s waking from nature spirits. I don’t know if we need to convince the Romans, but it might help if he explains the situation there. Besides, Percy and Annabeth are our friends. It seems only right that we be the two to go.” She inhaled sharply. “I will send a message asking for a parlay meeting now and hopefully meet with Reyna tomorrow.”

Will sent up a prayer that both Percy and Annabeth would return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A camp pov chapter for you! Of course I had to include the note scene.


	35. I Dream of Parlay (Jason XXXV)

JASON FELL ASLEEP ON THE JOB. Which was bad, since he was a thousand feet in the air.

He should have known better. It was the morning after their encounter with Sciron the bandit, and Jason was on duty, fighting some wild venti who were threatening the ship. When he slashed through the last one, he forgot to hold his breath.

A stupid mistake. When a wind spirit disintegrates, it creates a vacuum. Unless you’re holding your breath, the air gets sucked right out of your lungs. The pressure in your inner ears drops so fast that you blackout.

That’s what happened to Jason.

Even worse, he instantly plunged into a dream. In the back of his subconscious, he thought:  _ Really? Now? _

He needed to wake up or he would die, but he wasn’t able to hold on to that thought. In the dream, he found himself on the roof of a tall building, the night-time skyline of Manhattan spread around him. A cold wind whipped through his clothes.

A few blocks away, clouds gathered above the Empire State Building—the entrance to Mount Olympus itself. Lightning flashed. The air was metallic with the smell of oncoming rain. The top of the skyscraper was lit up as usual, but the lights seemed to be malfunctioning. They flickered from purple to orange as if the colors were fighting for dominance.

On the roof of Jason’s building stood his old comrades from Camp Jupiter: an array of demigods in combat armour, their Imperial gold weapons and shields glinting in the dark. He saw Dakota and Nathan, Leila and Marcus. Octavian stood to one side, thin and pale, his eyes red-rimmed from sleeplessness or anger, a string of sacrificial stuffed animals around his waist. His augur’s white robe was draped over a purple T-shirt and cargo pants.

In the center of the line stood Reyna, her metal dogs Aurum and Argentum at her side. Upon seeing her, Jason felt an incredible pang of guilt. He’d disappeared, leaving her to run the camp on her own. (Okay, that hadn’t exactly been Jason’s idea, but still…) Then, he fled New Rome with the crew of the  _ Argo II _ , leaving her on her own again to lead the Legion. They’d fired on the Forum and run away, leaving Reyna with a war on her hands.

In his dream she looked tired. Others might not notice, but he’d worked with her long enough to recognize the weariness in her eyes, the tightness in her shoulders under the straps of her armour. Her dark hair was wet, like she’d taken a hasty shower.

The Romans stared at the roof-access door as if they were waiting for someone.

When the door opened, two people emerged. One was a faun—no, Jason thought—a satyr. He’d learned the difference at Camp Half-Blood, and Coach Hedge was always correcting him if he made that mistake. Roman fauns tended to hang around and beg and eat. Satyrs were more helpful, more engaged with demigod affairs. Jason didn’t think he’d seen this particular satyr before, but he was sure the guy was from the Greek side. No faun would look so purposeful walking up to an armed group of Romans in the middle of the night.

He wore a green Nature Conservancy T-shirt with pictures of endangered whales and tigers and stuff. Nothing covered his shaggy legs and hooves. He had a bushy goatee, curly brown hair tucked into a Rasta-style cap and a set of reed pipes around his neck. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, but considering the way he studied the Romans, noting their positions and their weapons, Jason figured this satyr had been in combat before.

At his side was a red-headed girl Jason recognized from Camp Half-Blood—their oracle, Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She had long frizzy hair, a plain white blouse and jeans covered with hand-drawn ink designs. She held a blue plastic hairbrush that she tapped nervously against her thigh like a good luck talisman.

Jason remembered her at the campfire, reciting lines of prophecy that sent Jason, Piper and Leo on their first quest together. She was a regular mortal teenager—not a demigod—but, for reasons Jason never understood, the spirit of Delphi had chosen her as its host.

The real question:  _ What was she doing with the Romans? _

She stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Reyna. “You got my message.”

Octavian snorted. “That’s the only reason you made it this far alive, Graecus. I hope you’ve come to discuss surrender terms.”

“Octavian…” Reyna warned.

“At least search them!” Octavian protested.

“No need,” Reyna said, studying Rachel Dare. “Do you bring weapons?”

Rachel shrugged. “I hit Kronos in the eye with this hairbrush once. Otherwise, no.”

The Romans didn’t seem to know what to make of that. The mortal didn’t sound like she was kidding.

“And your friend?” Reyna nodded to the satyr. “I thought you were coming alone.”

“This is Grover Underwood,” Rachel said. “He’s a leader of the Council.”

“What council?” Octavian demanded.

“Cloven Elders, man.” Grover’s voice was high and reedy, as if he were terrified, but Jason suspected the satyr had more steel than he let on. “Seriously, don’t you Romans have nature and trees and stuff? I’ve got some news you need to hear. Plus, I’m a card-carrying protector. I’m here to, you know, protect Rachel.”

Reyna looked like she was trying not to smile. “But no weapons?”

“Just the pipes.” Grover’s expression became wistful. “Percy always said my cover of ‘Born to be Wild’ should count as a dangerous weapon, but I don’t think it’s that bad.”

Octavian sneered. “Another friend of Percy Jackson. That’s all I need to hear.”

Reyna held up her hand for silence. Her gold and silver dogs sniffed the air, but they remained calm and attentive at her side.

“So far, our guests speak the truth,” Reyna said. “Be warned, Rachel and Grover, if you start to lie, this conversation will not go well for you. Say what you came to say.”

From her jeans pocket, Rachel dug out a piece of paper like a napkin. “A message. From Annabeth.”

Jason wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Annabeth was in Tartarus. She couldn’t send anyone a note on a napkin.

_ Maybe I’ve hit the water and died, _ his subconscious said.  _ This isn’t a real vision. It’s some sort of after-death hallucination. _

But the dream seemed very real. He could feel the wind sweeping across the roof. He could smell the storm. Lightning flickered over the Empire State Building, making the Romans’ armour flash.

Reyna took the note. As she read it, her eyebrows crept higher. Her mouth parted in shock. Finally, she looked up at Rachel. “Is this a joke?”

“I wish,” Rachel said. “They’re really in Tartarus.”

“But how—”

“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “The note appeared in the sacrificial fire at our dining pavilion. That’s Annabeth’s handwriting. She asks for you by name.”

Octavian stirred. “Tartarus? What do you mean?”

Reyna handed him the letter.

Octavian muttered as he read: “Rome, Arachne, Athena—Athena Parthenos?” He looked around in outrage, as if waiting for someone to contradict what he was reading. “A Greek trick! Greeks are infamous for their tricks!”

Reyna took back the note. “Why ask this of me?”

Rachel smiled. “Because Annabeth is wise. She believes you can do this, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano.”

Jason felt like he’d been slapped. Nobody ever used Reyna’s full name. She hated telling anyone what it was. The only time Jason had ever said it aloud, just trying to pronounce it correctly, she’d given him a murderous look.  _ That was the name of a little girl in San Juan, _ she told him.  _ I left it behind when I left Puerto Rico. _

Reyna scowled. “How did you—”

“Uh,” Grover Underwood interrupted. “You mean your initials are RA-RA?”

Reyna’s hand drifted towards her dagger.

“But that’s not important!” the satyr said quickly. “Look, we wouldn’t have risked coming here if we didn’t trust Annabeth’s instincts. A Roman leader returning the most important Greek statue to Camp Half-Blood—she knows that could prevent a war.”

“This isn’t a trick,” Rachel added. “We’re not lying. Ask your dogs.”

The metallic greyhounds didn’t react. Reyna stroked Aurum’s head thoughtfully. “The Athena Parthenos… so the legend is true.”

“Reyna!” Octavian cried. “You can’t seriously be considering this! Even if the statue still exists, you see what they’re doing. We’re on the verge of attacking them—destroying the stupid Greeks once and for all—and they concoct this stupid errand to divert your attention. They want to send you to your death!”

The other Romans muttered, glaring at their visitors. Jason remembered how persuasive Octavian could be, and he was winning the officers to his side.

Rachel Dare faced the augur. “Octavian, son of Apollo, you should take this more seriously. Even Romans respected your father’s Oracle of Delphi.”

“Ha!” Octavian said. “You’re the Oracle of Delphi? Right. And I’m the Emperor Nero!”

A flash of lightning in Jason’s eyes. He was riding Tempest and jousting sword versus spear with another rider on horseback.

“I told you this isn’t a game!” the rider yelled. “You don’t walk away from me alive!”

Jason blinked and he was back watching Rachel, Reyna, Octavian, and Grover. The wind was swirling around the Romans with a hissing sound and Rachel was surrounded by a glowing green aura. Then the wind faded and the aura was gone.

The sneer melted from Octavian’s face. The Romans rustled uneasily.

“It’s your decision,” Rachel said, as if nothing had happened. “I have no specific prophecy to offer you, but I can see glimpses of the future. I see the Athena Parthenos on Half-Blood Hill. I see her bringing it.” She pointed at Reyna. “Also, Ella has been murmuring lines from your Sibylline Books—”

“What?” Reyna interrupted. “The Sibylline Books were destroyed centuries ago.”

“I knew it!” Octavian pounded his fist into his palm. “That harpy they brought back from the quest—Ella. I knew she was spouting prophecies! Now I understand. She—she somehow memorized a copy of the Sibylline Books.”

Reyna shook her head in disbelief. “How is that possible?”

“We don’t know,” Rachel admitted. “But, yes, that seems to be the case. Ella has a perfect memory. She loves books. Somewhere, somehow, she read your Roman book of prophecies. Now she’s the only source for them.”

“Your friends lied,” Octavian said. “They told us the harpy was just muttering gibberish. They stole her!”

Grover huffed indignantly. “Ella isn’t your property! She’s a free creature. Besides, she wants to be at Camp Half-Blood. She’s dating one of my friends, Tyson.”

“The Cyclops,” Reyna remembered. “A harpy dating a Cyclops…”

“That’s not relevant!” Octavian said. “The harpy has valuable Roman prophecies. If the Greeks won’t return her, we should take their Oracle hostage! Guards!”

Two centurions advanced, their pila levelled. Grover brought his pipes to his lips, played a quick jig and their spears turned into Christmas trees. The guards dropped them in surprise.

“Enough!” Reyna shouted.

She didn’t often raise her voice. When she did, everyone listened.

“We’ve strayed from the point,” she said. “Rachel Dare, you’re telling me that Annabeth is in Tartarus, yet she’s found a way to send this message. She wants me to bring this statue from the ancient lands to your camp.”

Rachel nodded. “Only a Roman can return it and restore peace.”

“And why would the Romans want peace,” Reyna asked, “after your ship attacked our city?”

“You know why,” Rachel said. “To avoid this war. To reconcile the gods’ Greek and Roman sides. We have to work together to defeat Gaea.”

Octavian stepped forward to speak, but Reyna shot him a withering look.

“According to Percy Jackson,” Reyna said, “the battle with Gaea will be fought in the ancient lands. In Greece.”

“That’s where the giants are,” Rachel agreed. “Whatever magic, whatever ritual the giants are planning to wake the Earth Mother, I sense it will happen in Greece. But… well, our problems aren’t limited to the ancient lands. That’s why I brought Grover to talk to you.”

The satyr tugged his goatee. “Yeah… see, over the last few months, I’ve been talking to satyrs and nature spirits across the continent. They’re all saying the same thing. Gaea is stirring—I mean, she’s right on the edge of consciousness. She’s whispering in the minds of naiads, trying to turn them. She’s causing earthquakes, uprooting the dryads’ trees. Last week alone, she appeared in human form in a dozen different places, scaring the horns off some of my friends. In Colorado, a giant stone fist rose out of a mountain and swatted some Party Ponies like flies.”

Reyna frowned. “Party Ponies?”

“Long story,” Rachel said. “The point is: Gaea will rise everywhere. She’s already stirring. No place will be safe from the battle. And we know that her first targets are going to be the demigod camps. She wants us destroyed.”

“Speculation,” Octavian said. “A distraction. The Greeks fear our attack. They’re trying to confuse us. It’s the Trojan Horse all over again!”

Reyna twisted the silver ring she always wore, with the sword and torch symbols of her mother, Bellona.

“Marcus,” she said, “bring Scipio from the stables.”

“Reyna, no!” Octavian protested.

She faced the Greeks. “I will do this for Annabeth, for the hope of peace between our camps, but do not think I have forgotten the insults to Camp Jupiter. Your ship fired on our city. You declared war—not us. Now, leave.”

Grover stamped his hoof. “Percy would never—”

“Grover,” Rachel said, “we should go.”

Her tone said:  _ Before it’s too late. _

After they had retreated back down the stairs, Octavian wheeled on Reyna. “Are you mad?”

“I am praetor of the legion,” Reyna said. “I judge this to be in the best interest of Rome.”

“To get yourself killed? To break our oldest laws and travel to the ancient lands? How will you even find their ship, assuming you survive the journey?”

“I will find them,” Reyna said. “If they are sailing for Greece, I know a place Jason will stop. To face the ghosts in the House of Hades, he will need an army. There is only one place where he can find that sort of help.”

In Jason’s dream, the building seemed to tilt under his feet. He remembered a conversation he’d had with Reyna years ago, a promise they had made to each other. He knew what she was talking about.

“This is insanity,” Octavian muttered. “We’re already under attack. We must take the offensive! Those hairy dwarfs have been stealing our supplies, sabotaging our scouting parties—you know the Greeks sent them.”

“Perhaps,” Reyna said. “But you will not launch an attack without my orders. Continue scouting the enemy camp. Secure your positions. Gather all the allies you can, and if you catch those dwarfs you have my blessing to send them back to Tartarus. But do not attack Camp Half-Blood until I return.”

Octavian narrowed his eyes. “While you’re gone, the augur is the senior officer. I will be in charge.”

“I know.” Reyna didn’t sound happy about it. “But you have my orders. You all heard them.” She scanned the faces of the centurions, daring them to question her.

She stormed off, her purple cloak billowing and her dogs at her heels.

Once she was gone, Octavian turned to the centurions. “Gather all the senior officers. I want a meeting as soon as Reyna has left on her fool’s quest. There will be a few changes in the legion’s plans.”

One of the centurions opened his mouth to respond, but for some reason he spoke in Piper’s voice: “WAKE UP!”

Jason’s eyes snapped open, and he saw the ocean’s surface hurtling towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand we've entered the Jason Chapters.


	36. Nico Doesn't Look So Good (Jason XXXVI)

JASON SURVIVED—BARELY.

Later, his friends explained that they hadn’t seen him falling from the sky until the last second. There was no time for Frank or Alex to turn into an eagle and catch him; no time to formulate a rescue plan.

Only Piper’s quick thinking and charmspeak had saved his life. She’d yelled  _ WAKE UP! _ with so much force that Jason felt like he’d been hit with defibrillator paddles. With a millisecond to spare, he’d summoned the winds and avoided becoming a floating patch of demigod grease on the surface of the Adriatic.

Back on board, he had pulled Leo aside and suggested a course correction. Fortunately, Leo trusted him enough not to ask why.

“Weird vacation spot.” Leo grinned. “But, hey, you’re the boss!”

Now, sitting with his friends in the mess hall, Jason felt so awake he doubted he would sleep for a week. His hands were jittery. He couldn’t stop tapping his feet. He guessed that this was how Leo felt all the time, except that Leo had a sense of humor.

After what Jason had seen in his dream, he didn’t feel much like joking.

While they ate lunch, Jason reported on his midair vision. His friends were quiet long enough for Coach Hedge to finish a peanut butter and banana sandwich, along with the ceramic plate.

The ship creaked as it sailed through the Adriatic, its remaining oars still out of alignment from the giant turtle attack. Every once in a while Festus the figurehead creaked and squeaked through the speakers, reporting the autopilot status in that weird machine language that only Leo could understand.

“A note from Annabeth.” Piper shook her head in amazement. “I don’t see how that’s possible, but—”

“There’s a Hermes shrine,” Nico said. “Burned food offerings from Camp Half-Blood sometimes go there. Annabeth burned the note on the shrine.”

“Genius,” Leo said. “Pass the hot sauce.”

Frank frowned. “What does that mean?”

Leo wiped the chip crumbs off his face. “It means pass the hot sauce, Zhang. I’m still hungry.”

Frank slid over a jar of salsa. “I can’t believe Reyna would try to find us. It’s taboo, coming to the ancient lands. She’ll be stripped of her praetorship.”

“If she lives,” Hazel said. “It was hard enough for us to make it this far with nine demigods and a warship.”

“And me.” Coach Hedge belched. “Don’t forget, cupcake, you got the satyr advantage.”

Jason had to smile. Coach Hedge could be pretty ridiculous, but Jason was glad he’d come along. He thought about the satyr he’d seen in his dream—Grover Underwood. He couldn’t imagine a satyr more different from Coach Hedge, but they both seemed brave in their own way. It made Jason wonder about the fauns back at Camp Jupiter—whether they could be like that if the Roman demigods expected more from them. Another thing to add to his list…

His list. He hadn’t realized that he had one until that moment, but ever since leaving Camp Half- Blood he’d been thinking of ways to make Camp Jupiter more… Greek.

He had grown up at Camp Jupiter. He’d done well there. But he had always been a little unconventional. He chafed under the rules. He’d joined the Fifth Cohort because everyone told him not to. They warned him it was the worst unit. So he’d thought,  _ Fine, I’ll make it the best. _

Once he’d become praetor, he’d campaigned to rename the legion the First Legion rather than the Twelfth Legion, to symbolize a new start for Rome. The idea had almost caused a mutiny. New Rome was all about tradition and legacies; the rules didn’t change easily. Jason had learned to live with that and even rose to the top.

But now that he had seen both camps he couldn’t shake the feeling that Camp Half-Blood might have taught him more about himself. If he survived this war with Gaea and returned to Camp Jupiter as a praetor, could he change things for the better?

That was his duty.

So why did the idea fill him with dread? He felt guilty about leaving Reyna to rule without him, but still… part of him wanted to go back to Camp Half-Blood with Piper and Leo. He guessed that that made him a pretty terrible leader.

“Jason?” Leo asked. “ _ Argo II _ to Jason. Come in.”

He realized his friends were looking at him expectantly. They needed reassurance. Whether or not he made it back to New Rome after the war, Jason had to step up now and act like a praetor.

“Yeah, sorry.” He touched the groove that Sciron the bandit had cut in his hair. “Crossing the Atlantic is a hard journey, no doubt. But I’d never bet against Reyna. If anyone can make it, she will.”

“Well, I’d love to see Reyna again,” Piper said. “But how is she supposed to find us?”

Frank raised his hand. “Can’t you just send her an Iris-message?”

“They’re not working very well,” Coach Hedge put in. “Horrible reception. Every night, I swear, I could kick that rainbow goddess…” He faltered. His face turned bright red.

“Coach?” Alex grinned. “Who have you been calling every night, you old goat?”

“Alex!” Magnus said, shaking his head.

“Come on, say it with me,” Alex said. “Soap. Op. Ruh.”

Hazel cleared her throat. “He just means we’ve already tried. Some magic is interfering… maybe Gaea. Contacting the Romans is even harder. I think they’re shielding themselves.”

The coach gave her a grateful look.

Jason looked from Hazel to the coach, wondering what was going on with the satyr and how Hazel knew about it. Now that Jason thought about it, the coach hadn’t mentioned his cloud nymph girlfriend Mellie in a long time…

Frank drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t suppose Reyna has a cell phone…? Nah. Never mind. She’d probably have bad reception on a pegasus flying over the Atlantic.”

Jason thought about the  _ Argo II’s _ journey across the ocean, the dozens of encounters that had nearly killed them. Thinking about Reyna making that journey alone—he couldn’t decide whether it was terrifying or awe-inspiring.

“She’ll find us,” he said. “She mentioned something in the dream—she’s expecting me to go to a certain place on our way to the House of Hades. I—I’d forgotten about it, actually, but she’s right. It’s a place I need to visit.”

“What place?” Magnus asked.

Nico di Angelo had suddenly gone very, very pale. He looked almost sick.

“It’s a town called Split,” Jason answered. “Nico? I’m guessing you know this?”

Nico clenched his fists. “I know. Believe me.”

Jason wondered what that was all about. “We should be getting close. Leo?”

Leo punched the intercom button. “How’s it going up there, buddy?”

Festus the figurehead creaked and steamed.

“He says maybe ten minutes to the harbour,” Leo reported. “Though I still don’t get why you want to go to Croatia, especially a town called Split. I mean, you name your city Split, you gotta figure it’s a warning to, you know, split. Kind of like naming your city Get Out!”

“Wait,” Hazel said. “Why are we going to Croatia?”

Jason noticed that the others were reluctant to meet her eyes. Since her trick with the Mist against Sciron the bandit, even Jason felt a little nervous around her. He knew that wasn’t fair to Hazel. It was hard enough being a child of Pluto, but she’d pulled off some serious magic on that cliff. And afterwards, according to Hazel, Pluto himself had appeared to her. That was something Romans typically called a bad omen.

Leo pushed his chips and hot sauce aside. “Well, technically we’ve been in Croatian territory for the past day or so. All that coastline we’ve been sailing past is it, but I guess back in the Roman times it was called… what’d you say, Jason? Bodacious?”

“Dalmatia,” Nico spat. “He wants to visit Diocletian’s Palace and get the scepter.”

Based on Nico’s reaction, Jason was pretty sure everything was about to go wrong. He didn’t know what had caused Nico to have such a strong reaction to Dalmatia, but it was starting to make Jason leary about going.

Coach Hedge managed another heroic belch. “Whose palace? And is Dalmatia where those Dalmatian dogs come from? That 101 Dalmatians movie—I still have nightmares.”

Frank scratched his head. “Why would you have nightmares about that?”

Coach Hedge looked like he was about to launch into a major speech about the evils of cartoon Dalmatians, but Jason decided he didn’t want to know.

“Exactly,” Jason said. “It’s where Reyna will go first. She knows I would go there.”

“And that’s great, but why?” Alex asked. “Who’s Diocletian?”

Frank looked offended. “He was the last great pagan emperor!”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised you know that, Zhang?”

“Why wouldn’t I? He was the last one who worshipped the Olympian gods, before Constantine came along and adopted Christianity.”

Hazel nodded. “I remember something about that. The nuns at St Agnes taught us that Diocletian was a huge villain, right along with Nero and Caligula.”

Jason hissed and his hand flew to his forehead. A shooting pain like the ones he had when Hera had taken away his memory flared in his brain.

“Jason?” Piper asked.

“I’m okay,” Jason said uncertainly. “I just…”

“It’s the flashes of the future,” Nico said. “Caligula was the one to… kill you. Nero was in league with him. I think you’re trying to remember something you don’t actually have memories of. Those names trigger it.”

Jason rubbed his head. “Great.”

It was hard enough to think about his life before Juno wiped his memory. His years at Camp Jupiter seemed made up, like a move he’d acted in decades before. Now, on top of that, his brain was trying to remember things from  _ Nico’s _ future. The future Nico came from anyway.

“Look, Reyna and I idolized the guy as a leader,” Jason explained. “We made a pact to visit the Palace if we ever did go to the ancient lands.”

Piper sipped a spoonful of soup. “So why is Diocletian’s Palace so special?”

“Supposedly, it’s haunted by the ghost of Diocletian,” Jason said, looking to Nico for confirmation.

Nico didn’t do anything other than glare at the bowl of grapes before him. He stabbed one aggressively with his fork and chewed it just as aggressively.

“Uh, according to the legends, his scepter was buried with him,” Jason continued. “His scepter is supposed to have the power to summon the ghosts of the Roman legions.”

Leo whistled. “Okay, now I’m interested. Be nice to have a booty-kicking army of pagan zombies on our side when we enter the House of Hades.”

“Not sure I would’ve put it that way,” Jason muttered, “but yeah.”

“We don’t have much time,” Frank warned. “It’s already July ninth. We have to get to Epirus, close the Doors of Death—”

“Which are guarded,” Hazel murmured, “by a smoky giant and a sorceress who wants…” She hesitated. “Well, I’m not sure. But according to Pluto, she plans to ‘rebuild her domain’. Whatever that means, it’s bad enough that my dad felt like warning me personally.”

Frank grunted. “And, if we survive all that, we still have to find out where the giants are waking Gaea and get there before the first of August. Besides, the longer Percy and Annabeth are in Tartarus—”

“I know,” Jason said. “We won’t take long in Split. But looking for the scepter is worth a try. While we’re at the palace, I can leave a message for Reyna, letting her know the route we’re taking for Epirus.” He looked at Nico. “We  _ do _ get the scepter, right?”

“We get the scepter,” Nico confirmed. His expression was still dark. “Jason and I will go.”

“Just us?” Jason asked.

Magnus frowned. “Are you sure? Usually don’t you guys go in threes?”

“It’s fine,” Nico snapped. He took a breath. “Look. This is how it has to be. I have to go and I would like Jason to go with me. This has already been chosen. None of us have a say in it. Okay? Just… please.”

“Are you okay?” Hazel asked worriedly. “You look sick.”

Nico swallowed. “It just needs to be this way. Trust me, Hazel. Please?”

Hazel nodded slowly. “If you’re sure. But Nico, like you told us, we still have free will. That includes you too.”

The ship’s bell sounded. Festus creaked and whirred over the loudspeaker.

“We’ve arrived,” Leo announced. “Time to Split.”

Frank groaned. “Can we leave Valdez in Croatia?”

“The ValZhang bromance has  _ split _ up,” Alex joked.

“Dear God,” Magnus muttered.

Jason stood. “Frank, you’re in charge of defending the ship. Leo, you’ve got repairs to do. The rest of you help out wherever you can. Nico and I…” he faced the son of Hades. “We have a ghost to find.” If Nico didn’t throw up first, he added privately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. We're in Croatia now. Fun times ahead. Not.


	37. I Get A History Lesson (Jason XXXVII)

JASON FIRST SAW THE ANGEL AT THE ICE-CREAM CART.

The  _ Argo II _ had anchored in the bay along with six or seven cruise ships. As usual, the mortals didn’t pay the trireme any attention, but, just to be safe, Jason and Nico hopped on a skiff from one of the tourist boats so they would look like part of the crowd when they came ashore.

At first glance, Split seemed like a cool place. Curving around the harbour was a long esplanade lined with palm trees. At the sidewalk cafés, European teenagers were hanging out, speaking a dozen different languages and enjoying the sunny afternoon. The air smelled of grilled meat and fresh-cut flowers.

Beyond the main boulevard, the city was a hodgepodge of mediaeval castle towers, Roman walls, limestone town houses with red-tiled roofs and modern office buildings all crammed together. In the distance, grey-green hills marched towards a mountain ridge, which made Jason a little nervous. He kept glancing at that rocky escarpment, expecting the face of Gaea to appear in its shadows.

Nico and he were wandering along the esplanade when Jason spotted a guy with wings buying an ice-cream bar from a street cart. The vendor lady looked bored as she counted the guy’s change. Tourists navigated around the angel’s huge wings without a second glance.

Jason nudged Nico. “Are you seeing this?”

“Uhuh,” Nico grunted. He was still pale. “Maybe we should buy some ice cream.”

Jason thought that it would be more likely that Nico would hurl the ice cream rather than enjoy it. The son of Hades had looked ill aboard the  _ Argo II, _ but he looked worse and worse the further they walked. He almost asked Nico what was wrong, but the permanent scowl on Nico’s face was enough to tell him to back off for a while.

As they made their way towards the street cart, Jason worried that this winged dude might be a son of Boreas the North Wind. At his side, the angel carried the same kind of jagged bronze sword the Boreads had, and Jason’s last encounter with them hadn’t gone so well.

But this guy seemed more chill than chilly. He wore a red tank top, Bermuda shorts and huarache sandals. His wings were a combination of russet colors, like a bantam rooster or a lazy sunset. He had a deep tan and black hair almost as curly as Leo’s. And Jason recognized him.

“I know him,” he murmured.

Nico went stiff. “What?”

“In my dreams,” Jason said. “I’ve seen him in my dreams. You and I were talking to him. I can’t remember what we were talking about, but…” he trailed off at the sour look Nico had. “You know, don’t you.”

“Come on,” Nico said. He brushed past Jason and headed towards the ice-cream cart.

They got within thirty feet, and the winged dude looked directly at them. He smiled, gestured over his shoulder with his ice-cream bar and dissolved into the air.

Jason couldn’t exactly see him, but he’d had enough experience controlling the wind that he could track the angel’s path—a warm wisp of red and gold zipping across the street, spiralling down the sidewalk and blowing postcards from the carousels in front of the tourist shops. The wind headed towards the end of the promenade, where a big fortress-like structure loomed.

“I’m betting that’s the palace,” Jason said. “Come on.”

* * *

Even after two millennia, Diocletian’s Palace was still impressive. The outer wall was only a pink granite shell, with crumbling columns and arched windows open to the sky, but it was mostly intact, a quarter mile long and seventy or eighty feet tall, dwarfing the modern shops and houses that huddled beneath it. Jason imagined what the palace must have looked like when it was newly built, with Imperial guards walking the ramparts and the golden eagles of Rome glinting on the parapets.

The wind angel—or whatever he was—whisked in and out of the pink granite windows, then disappeared on the other side. Jason scanned the palace’s facade for an entrance. The only one he saw was several blocks away, with tourists lined up to buy tickets. No time for that.

“We’ve got to catch him,” Jason said. “Hold on.”

“No, wait—”

Jason grabbed Nico and lifted them both into the air.

Nico made a muffled sound of protest as they soared over the walls and into a courtyard where more tourists were milling around, taking pictures.

A little kid did a double take when they landed. Then his eyes glazed over and he shook his head, like he was dismissing a juice-box-induced hallucination. No one else paid them any attention.

On the left side of the courtyard stood a line of columns holding up weathered grey arches. On the right side was a white marble building with rows of tall windows.

“The peristyle,” Nico said. “This was the entrance to Diocletian’s private residence.” He scowled at Jason. “We didn’t need to rush, I knew where we had to go.”

“Why don’t you want to be here?” Jason asked. “You look like you want to curl up and wait for death at the  _ mention _ of this place. Why volunteer yourself to come with me?”

Nico’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t have good memories of this place. I was here once in the 1930s, but I don’t remember it. And we came here again. That time I do remember. I remember being humiliated and…” he took a long shuddering breath. “But. I don’t want someone else going through what I did. That’s why I came. You were with me the first time. I trust you.”

“What happened?”

Nico gave him a sad look. “You’ll see.”

Jason always tried to build a good relationship with the people on his team. He’d learned the hard way that if somebody was going to have your back in a fight it was better if you found some common ground and trusted each other. But Nico wasn’t easy to figure out. And apparently he already trusted Jason for something Jason hadn’t even done yet. “I just… I can’t imagine how weird that must be, coming from another time.”

“No,” Nico said. “You really can’t.” He sighed. “Hazel has worse though. She remembers more about when she was young. She had to come back from the dead and adjust to the modern world. Me and Bianca, we were stuck at the Lotus Hotel. Time passed so quickly. In a weird way, that made the transition easier.”

“Seventy years, but it only felt like a month?”

“Yeah.” Nico’s eyes swept the windows above them. “Roman dead are everywhere here… Lares. Lemures. They’re watching. They’re angry.”

“At us?” Jason’s hand went to his sword.

“At everything.” Nico pointed to a small stone building on the west end of the courtyard. “That used to be a temple to Jupiter. The Christians changed it to a baptistery. The Roman ghosts don’t like that.”

Jason stared at the dark doorway.

He’d never met Jupiter, but he thought of his father as a living person—the guy who’d fallen in love with his mom. Of course he knew his dad was immortal, but somehow the full meaning of that had never really sunk in until now as he stared at a doorway Romans had walked through, thousands of years ago, to worship his dad. The idea gave Jason a splitting headache.

“And over there…” Nico pointed east to a hexagonal building ringed with free-standing columns. “That was the mausoleum of the emperor.”

“But his tomb isn’t there any more,” Jason guessed.

“Not for centuries,” Nico said. “When the empire collapsed, the building was turned into a Christian cathedral.”

Jason swallowed. “So if Diocletian’s ghost is still around here—”

“He’s not,” Nico said.

Jason blinked. “Wait. Then who has the scepter?”

The wind rustled, pushing leaves and food wrappers across the peristyle. In the corner of his eye, Jason caught a glimpse of movement—a blur of red and gold. When he turned, a single rust-colored feather was settling on the steps that led down.

“Not him, but close,” Nico said. “This way. Time to go underground.”

* * *

Jason didn’t like going underground.

Ever since his trip beneath Rome with Piper, Magnus, and Percy, fighting those twin giants in the hypogeum under the Colosseum, most of his nightmares had been about basements, trapdoors and large hamster-wheels with the ever present memories of future Jason mixed in there.

Having Nico along was not reassuring. His Stygian iron blade seemed to make the shadows even gloomier, as if the infernal metal were drawing the light and heat out of the air.

They crept through a vast cellar with thick support columns holding up a vaulted ceiling. The limestone blocks were so old they had fused together from centuries of moisture, making the place look almost like a naturally formed cave.

None of the tourists had ventured down here. Obviously, they were smarter than demigods. Jason drew his gladius. They made their way under the low archways, their steps echoing on the stone floor. Barred windows lined the top of one wall, facing the street level, but that just made the cellar feel more claustrophobic. The shafts of sunlight looked like slanted prison bars, swirling with ancient dust.

Jason passed a support beam, looked to his left and almost had a heart attack. Staring right at him was a marble bust of Diocletian, his limestone face glowering with disapproval.

Jason steadied his breathing. This seemed like a good place to leave the note he’d written for Reyna, telling her of their route to Epirus. It was away from the crowds, but he trusted Reyna would find it. She had the instincts of a hunter. He slipped the note between the bust and its pedestal and stepped back.

Diocletian’s marble eyes made him jumpy. Jason couldn’t help thinking of Terminus, the talking statue-god back at New Rome. He hoped Diocletian wouldn’t bark at him or suddenly burst into song.

“Hello!”

Before Jason could register that the voice had come from somewhere else, he sliced off the emperor’s head. The bust toppled and shattered against the floor.

“That wasn’t very nice,” said the voice behind them.

Jason turned. The winged man from the ice-cream stand was leaning against a nearby column, casually tossing a small bronze hoop in the air. At his feet sat a wicker picnic basket full of fruit.

“I mean,” the man said, “what did Diocletian ever do to you?”

The air swirled around Jason’s feet. The shards of marble gathered into a miniature tornado, spiralled back to the pedestal and reassembled into a complete bust, the note still tucked underneath.

“Uh—” Jason lowered his sword. “It was an accident. You startled me.”

The winged dude chuckled. “Jason Grace, the West Wind has been called many things… warm, gentle, life-giving and devilishly handsome. But I have never been called startling. I leave that crass behaviour to my gusty brethren in the north.”

“Favonius,” Nico said shortly.

“The god of the West Wind?” Jason asked.

Favonius smiled and bowed, obviously pleased to be recognized. “You can call me by my Roman name, certainly, or Zephyros, if you’re Greek. I’m not hung up about it.”

Nico looked pretty hung up about it. “Well, we’re here for the scepter.”

“Yes,” Favonius nodded. “Well, it’s not here. My master has taken it.”

“Your master?” Jason repeated. “Please tell me your master isn’t Aeolus.”

“That airhead?” Favonius snorted. “No, of course not.”

“He means Eros.” Nico’s voice turned edgy. “Cupid, in Latin.”

Jason suddenly had a very bad feeling.

Favonius smiled. “Very good, Nico di Angelo. I’m glad to see you again, by the way. It’s been a long time.”

“Sorry I can’t say the same,” Nico said. “This is the last place I’d like to be.”

“Yes,” Favonius agreed. “It is, isn’t it. But now you’ve returned to look upon my master’s face.”

“What?” Jason asked, looking at Nico. “What’s he talking about?”

Nico’s pale face told Jason how terrified he was. Still, Nico didn’t leave. He stood his ground and glared at Favonius. “He means facing Cupid.”

Jason was pretty sure he didn’t want to meet Cupid. Not if this was how the god of love made Nico react.

“You are right,” Favonius said. “Long before this was Diocletian’s Palace, it was the gateway to my master’s court. I’ve dwelt here for eons, bringing those who sought love into the presence of Cupid.”

Jason didn’t like the mention of difficult trials. He didn’t trust this weird god with the hoop and the wings and the basket of fruit. But an old story surfaced in his mind—something he’d heard at Camp Jupiter. “Like Psyche, Cupid’s wife. You carried her to his palace.”

Favonius’s eyes twinkled. “Very good, Jason Grace. From this exact spot, I carried Psyche on the winds and brought her to the chambers of my master. In fact, that is why Diocletian built his palace here. This place has always been graced by the gentle West Wind." He spread his arms. "It is a spot of tranquillity and love in a turbulent world. When Diocletian’s Palace was ransacked—”

“You took the scepter,” Jason guessed.

“For safekeeping,” Favonius agreed. “It is one of Cupid’s many treasures, a reminder of better times. If you want it…” Favonius turned to Nico. “You must face the god of love.”

Nico stared at the sunlight coming through the windows, as if wishing he could escape through those narrow openings.

“Nico?”

“Let’s go,” Nico said abruptly. “Take us to Cupid.”

Favonius spun the hoop on his finger, and Jason’s body dissolved into air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screw you, Cupid.
> 
> Ahhh, sorry, guys. You'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what happens with that.
> 
> But Jason's reaction when he thought the head of Diocletian spoke? I love it.


	38. We Meet the Monster of Love (Jason XXXVIII)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to start off this chapter by saying thank you to everyone who voiced their contributions to the "Kill Cupid" campaign in the previous chapters.

JASON HAD RIDDEN THE WIND MANY TIMES. Being the wind was not the same.

He felt out of control, his thoughts scattered, no boundaries between his body and the rest of the world. He wondered if this was how monsters felt when they were defeated—bursting into dust, helpless and formless.

Jason could sense Nico’s presence nearby. The West Wind carried them into the sky above Split. Together they raced over the hills, past Roman aqueducts, highways and vineyards. As they approached the mountains, Jason saw the ruins of a Roman town spread out in a valley below—crumbling walls, square foundations and cracked roads, all overgrown with grass—so it looked like a giant, mossy game board.

Favonius set them down in the middle of the ruins, next to a broken column the size of a redwood. Jason’s body re-formed. For a moment it felt even worse than being the wind, like he’d suddenly been wrapped in a lead overcoat.

“Yes, mortal bodies are terribly bulky,” Favonius said, as if reading his thoughts. The wind god settled on a nearby wall with his basket of fruit and spread his russet wings in the sun. “Honestly, I don’t know how you stand it, day in and day out.”

Jason scanned their surroundings. The town must have been huge once. He could make out the shells of temples and bathhouses, a half-buried amphitheatre and empty pedestals that must have once held statues. Rows of columns marched off to nowhere. The old city walls weaved in and out of the hillside like stone thread through a green cloth. Some areas looked like they’d been excavated, but most of the city just seemed abandoned, as if it had been left to the elements for the last two thousand years.

“Welcome to Salona,” Favonius said. “Capital of Dalmatia! Birthplace of Diocletian! But before that, long before that, it was the home of Cupid.”

The name echoed, as if voices were whispering it through the ruins.

Something about this place seemed even creepier than the palace basement in Split. Jason had never thought much about Cupid. He’d certainly never thought of Cupid as scary. Even for Roman demigods, the name conjured up an image of a silly winged baby with a toy bow and arrow, flying around in his diapers on Valentine’s Day.

“Oh, he’s not like that,” said Favonius.

Jason flinched. “You can read my mind?”

“I don’t need to.” Favonius tossed his bronze hoop in the air. “Everyone has the wrong impression of Cupid… until they meet him.”

“You don’t say,” Nico muttered. His legs were trembling.

“Are you  _ sure _ you’re okay?”

“Fine,” Nico snapped. “I… I’m not… I don’t care.”

As if to counter his claim, the grass at Nico’s feet turned brown and wilted. The dead patch spread outwards, as if poison were seeping from the soles of his shoes.

“Ah…” Favonius nodded sympathetically. “I don’t blame you for being nervous, Nico di Angelo. Do you know how I ended up serving Cupid?”

“I don’t serve anyone,” Nico muttered. “Especially not  _ Cupid _ .” He spat the name like he had a bad taste in his mouth.

Favonius continued as if he hadn’t heard. “I fell in love with a mortal named Hyacinthus. He was quite extraordinary.”

“He…?” Jason’s brain was still fuzzy from his wind trip, so it took him a second to process that. “Oh…”

“Yes, Jason Grace.” Favonius arched an eyebrow. “I fell in love with a dude. Does that shock you?”

Honestly, Jason wasn’t sure. He tried not to think about the details of godly love lives, no matter who they fell in love with. After all, his dad, Jupiter, wasn’t exactly a model of good behaviour. Compared to some of the Olympian love scandals he’d heard about, the West Wind falling in love with a mortal guy didn’t seem very shocking. “I guess not. So… Cupid struck you with his arrow, and you fell in love.”

Favonius snorted. “You make it sound so simple. Alas, love is never simple. You see, the god Apollo also liked Hyacinthus. He claimed they were just friends. I don’t know. But one day I came across them together, playing a game of quoits—”

“Quoits?”

“A game with those hoops,” Nico explained, though his voice was brittle. “Like horseshoes.”

“Sort of,” Favonius said. “At any rate, I was jealous. Instead of confronting them and finding out the truth, I shifted the wind and sent a heavy metal ring right at Hyacinthus’s head and… well.” The wind god sighed. “As Hyacinthus died, Apollo turned him into a flower, the hyacinth. I’m sure Apollo would’ve taken horrible vengeance on me, but Cupid offered me his protection. I’d done a terrible thing, but I’d been driven mad by love, so he spared me, on the condition that I work for him forever.”

_ CUPID. _

The name echoed through the ruins again.

“That would be my cue.” Favonius stood. “Think long and hard about how you proceed, Nico di Angelo. You cannot lie to Cupid. If you let your anger rule you… well, your fate will be even sadder than mine.” He turned to leave and then he paused, tilting his head.

Favonius looked between Jason and Nico. “Oh. Oh my. That is interesting.” He disappeared in a swirl of red and gold before Jason or Nico could ask him what he meant.

Jason felt like his brain was turning back into wind. He didn’t understand what Favonius was talking about, but he had no time to think about it. The summer air suddenly felt oppressive. The ground shook, and Jason and Nico drew their swords.

_ So. _

The voice rushed past Jason’s ear like a bullet. When he turned, no one was there.

_ You come to claim the scepter. _

Nico glared at nothing in particular. “It’s me you want,” he said. “Right? What do you want to know, Cupid?”

Cupid laughed. His laughter was like barbed wire.

_ You? What would I want with you? You have faced love, Nico di Angelo, though you choose not to act on it. _

Jason looked at Nico whose face had gone from angry to icy cold. Jason didn’t understand what Cupid meant about Nico.

“Then why am I here?” Nico asked.

Cupid chuckled.  _ You thought I would give you the scepter in exchange for a confession? Perhaps, but not from you, Nico di Angelo. What I want from you cannot so easily be accomplished today. _

“What do you want?” Jason yelled.

Immediately he could feel the mood change. Cupid was  _ excited. _

“Why can’t Nico do whatever it is?”

Nico dropped his sword hand to rest by his side like he was giving up which didn’t exactly instill Jason with much confidence given the situation they were in.

“He wants me to start dating my, uh,” Nico stuttered like he wasn’t sure what word to use. “Well, basically he wants Will and I to date. Or at least me to, you know, tell him.”

_ Will and I? _ Jason mentally repeated.  “Will and you? Wait, so—”

“Yeah,” Nico said. “We, uh, we… it’s complicated.”

_ Complicated? _ Cupid scoffed.  _ Love is many things. Complicated is not one of them. It is an absolute. _

“Cupid! Show yourself!” Jason called. “Where are you?”

_ Where you least expect me, _ Cupid answered.  _ As Love always is. _

Something slammed into Jason and hurled him across the street. He toppled down a set of steps and sprawled on the floor of an excavated Roman basement.

_ I would think you’d know better, Jason Grace. _ Cupid’s voice whirled around him.  _ You think you’ve found true love, after all. Don’t you? _

Nico scrambled down the steps. “You okay?”

Jason accepted his hand and got to his feet. “Yeah. Just sucker punched.”

_ Oh, did you expect me to play fair? _ Cupid laughed.  _ I am the god of love. I am never fair. _

“Leave him alone!” Nico shouted. “It’s  _ supposed  _ to be me! You’re supposed to ask  _ me  _ to confess!”

_ Why? _ Cupid asked.  _ Why should I ask you? Once upon a time you were a little boy here with your mother and sister. A boy who was happy and outgoing, but so very scared of his own feelings. Feelings you could not admit now, but I knew you would have to one day. When you would be accepted. Are you still that scared little boy? I sense you are more afraid of me than your feelings. _

Nico’s eyes flared. “I’m not scared! I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

_ You care very much, _ Cupid said.  _ But you’ve accepted yourself. You, and only you, can act on it. _

“I came  _ here _ to act on it!”

_ How? _ Cupid asked incredulously.  _ What was your plan, Nico di Angelo? _

“I came here to tell you I’m in love with Will Solace!” Nico screamed. “I came here for the scepter!”

Silence.

Jason stared at Nico. The pieces started falling together with horrifying clarity. Originally, Nico and Jason had come for the scepter, expecting to talk to Diocletian’s ghost. Favonius brought them before Cupid instead. And Cupid… Cupid  _ forced _ a confession out of Nico. That was why Nico was so scared to come back. And that was what he was expecting.

But this was not like the last time. Cupid didn’t care about Nico admitting his crush. Nico—and it was quite clear to see after seeing his and Will’s interactions at Camp Half-Blood—did not struggle with admitting his sexuality. No, he hadn’t verbally acknowledged it, and, yeah, Jason was surprised at first, but now looking back, he couldn’t deny the outright flirting and the ever present will-they-won’t-they tension.

Cupid wanted a show. He wanted dramatics and anguish. He wanted his victim to  _ hurt. _ Nico did not hurt.

“Where did he go?” he murmured to Nico.

Nico’s eyes raked over the city. “I don’t know.

Jason’s senses were on high alert. He felt the air ripple just as an arrow materialized, racing towards his own chest. Jason intercepted it with his sword and deflected it sideways. The arrow exploded against the nearest wall, peppering them with limestone shrapnel.

“Found him!” Nico yelped.

They ran up the steps. Jason pulled Nico to one side as another gust of wind toppled a column that would have crushed him flat.

“Is this guy Love or Death?” Jason growled.

_ Ask your friends, _ Cupid said.  _ Frank, Hazel and Percy met my counterpart, Thanatos. We are not so different. Except Death is sometimes kinder. _

“If you don’t want me, what do you want?” Nico called.

“Me,” Jason realized.

Nico’s face turned red in anger. “No.”

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Jason shouted. “What do you want from me, Cupid?”

“Shut up!” Nico ordered. “Cupid, give us the scepter!”

A second arrow hit the ground between Nico’s feet and glowed white-hot. Nico stumbled back as the arrow burst into a geyser of flame.

_ Jason Grace, _ Cupid mused.  _ An interesting demigod you are. _

Nico wailed with rage and swung his sword wildly. His blade bit into something solid. There was a grunt and Nico swung again, but the invisible god was gone. On the paving stones, a trail of golden ichor shimmered—the blood of the gods.

_ Very good, Nico, _ Cupid said. _ You can sense my presence. Perhaps you are stronger than I thought. Even a glancing hit at true love is more than most heroes manage. _

“Give us the scepter,” Nico hissed.

_ Could you wield it? Only a child of the Underworld can summon the dead legions. And only an officer of Rome can lead them. You have one of the requirements. _

“But…” Jason wavered. He  _ was  _ an officer. He was a praetor. Then he remembered all his second thoughts about where he belonged. In New Rome, he’d offered to give up his position to Percy Jackson. Did that make him unworthy to lead a legion of Roman ghosts? He decided to face that problem when the time came.

_ Yes, you realize, Jason Grace, _ Cupid said.  _ Poor Jason Grace. Abandoned at two by your mother. Raised by wolves for a year. Joined the Roman Legion at quite the young age because your daddy is Jupiter. Your peers feared your father’s wrath. Do you know what love truly is? _

Jason’s temper rose. “You don’t know me! Of course I know love. I—” He cut himself off.

Was that even true? He had no love for the mother that left him to the wolves. He barely knew his sister. And what Cupid said about the legionnaires…

He had joined the legion at a very young age. He was sixteen, and he had twelve years of service in the legion. Thirteen if his missing eight months counted. He had been three years old when he joined.  _ Special circumstances, _ they’d said.  _ Jupiter’s kid can’t be defenseless. The son of Jupiter must become a strong leader. _

He felt closer to the Seven, Nico, Magnus, and Alex than anyone else he’d known his twelve years at Camp Jupiter other than Reyna. Reyna had understood what Jason felt during those years after she had joined.

“Jason, don’t listen to him,” Nico warned. “You can’t—”

The third arrow came out of nowhere and sunk into Jason’s sword arm. He gasped and let his sword clatter to the ground.

“Jason!” Nico shouted.

The arrow dissolved, leaving no blood and no visible wound, but it hurt. It hurt Jason’s very soul. He didn’t understand.

Nico’s face was tight with rage and pain. “Enough games!” he shouted. “Show yourself!”

_ It is a costly thing, _ Cupid said,  _ looking on the true face of Love. _

Another column toppled. Jason scrambled out of its way, picking up his sword as he did.

_ My wife Psyche learned that lesson, _ Cupid said.  _ She was brought here eons ago, when this was the site of my palace. We met only in the dark. She was warned never to look upon me, and yet she could not stand the mystery. She feared I was a monster. One night, she lit a candle, and beheld my face as I slept. _

“Were you that ugly?” Jason asked through gritted teeth. He scanned the area, waiting for the source of Cupid’s voice to reveal its location.

The god laughed.  _ I was too handsome, I’m afraid. A mortal cannot gaze upon the true appearance of a god without suffering consequences. My mother, Aphrodite, cursed Psyche for her distrust. My poor lover was tormented, forced into exile, given horrible tasks to prove her worth. She was even sent to the Underworld on a quest to show her dedication. She earned her way back to my side, but she suffered greatly. _

_ Now I’ve got you,  _ Jason thought. He went to thrust his sword in the sky, but Cupid continued.

_ Much like you, _ the god said.  _ You and your friend Piper, my sister. What is it you’re doing? Ah, yes. “Trying friends first.” Have you earned your way back to her side? _

“We’re just friends,” Jason said. “We’ve talked and decided to be friends. Hera made those memories. They aren’t real.”

_ Aren’t they? _ Cupid asked. _ The Mist is just another level of reality. Your friend Percy Jackson knows this. _

All around Nico, the ground shifted. The grass withered, and the stones cracked as if something was moving beneath, trying to push its way through.

“Give us Diocletian’s scepter,” Nico said. “We don’t have time for games.”

_ Games? _ Cupid struck, slapping Nico sideways into a granite pedestal.  _ Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work _ — _ a quest that never ends. It demands everything from you—especially the truth. Only then does it yield rewards. _

Nico growled. The ground at his feet split open and skeletons crawled forth—dead Romans with missing hands and caved-in skulls, cracked ribs and jaws unhinged. Some were dressed in the remnants of togas. Others had glinting pieces of armour hanging off their chests.

Nico’s Roman skeletons surged forward and grappled with something invisible. The god struggled, flinging the dead aside, breaking off ribs and skulls, but the skeletons kept coming, pinning the god’s arms.

“Leave Jason alone!” Nico yelled. “Your Love is a  _ monster, _ Cupid!”

Jason could agree. Cupid seemed to be more like a thug, or an enforcer. Piper’s version was better—considerate, kind, beautiful, Aphrodite’s Love.

Piper…

_ Have you finally figured it out? What I want? _ Cupid taunted.

“You don’t have to answer him,” Nico growled.

Cupid laughed.  _ Are you a lawyer now, Nico? This is a matter of the heart, not law. _

Jason swallowed. Yes, he knew what Cupid wanted. He knew what  _ he _ wanted. But that was impossible.

He lost himself in memories.

He was on the bus with the rest of the Wilderness School kids after waking up with no memories.

_ Jason? _ Piper asked hesitantly. Her ever changing irises shone with worry and concern. She was certainly pretty, but he didn’t remember her.

Then he was flying on the back of Festus. Leo was concentrating on steering the bronze dragon while Piper was dozing off. She leaned back against Jason. She was warm and her hair smelled like a sweet perfume, a side effect of Aphrodite’s blessing.

They were back at Camp Half-Blood. Leo was away working on building the  _ Argo II _ with the rest of his siblings. Jason and Piper were taking a break from training. They were just sitting with their backs against tree trunks, talking and laughing. Piper’s laugh was a ringing melody.

Two weeks ago when they had found out about Alex and Magnus being Norse, Piper helped Jason walk out onto the deck for some air. They talked it over.

Jason smiled at her.  _ I think we’re all a little emotional about it. In the morning, you’ll see. Maybe I’ll be the one panicking and you’ll be the one calming me down. _

_ Maybe, _ Piper said, smiling back. She looked over the side of the ship.

Jason wanted to hold her and be there for her. Comfort her. Be more than a friend.

Most recent of all when they had encountered Hercules.

The god’s nostrils flared.  _ Do not mention that name! You can’t seriously think I’m worried about your puny boyfriend. No one is stronger than me. _

_ Why does everyone think we’re dating? _ Piper scowled.  _ And who said anything about stronger? I said he’s better than you. _

Those words had warmed his heart while also stabbing him in the stomach.

Jason pulled himself from his memories.

“I know what you want!” Jason called weakly. “Just… just stop. Please.”

The story of Psyche finally made sense to him—why a mortal girl would be so afraid. Why she would risk breaking the rules to look the god of love in the face, because she feared he might be a monster.

Nico was right. Psyche was right. Cupid was a monster. Love was the most savage monster of all.

“You talked about the Mist memories,” Jason said. “I don’t remember those, but I  _ want _ to remember those. I want them to be real.”

The skeletons had Cupid pinned now. The invisible god didn’t seem to mind though. He was laughing so cruelly that Jason felt a surge of anger. He wanted to try to summon a bolt of lightning, but he doubted he had the strength for that. He was exhausted. Mentally and emotionally exhausted.

“I’m in love with Piper McLean,” Jason shouted at the air. “I don’t want to just be friends. I don’t care that Hera manipulated us at first. I’ve spent  _ months _ with her and I love her because of those memories. Those memories are real. I love her.”

Once he had said that, a weight seemed to fall off his shoulders. He felt at ease and unburdened. It must have had some effect on Nico too because the Roman dead slowly backed off Cupid and collapsed into bones that crumbled to dust.

Cupid became visible—a lean, muscular young man with snowy white wings, straight black hair, a simple white frock and jeans. The bow and quiver slung over his shoulder were no toys—they were weapons of war. His eyes were as red as blood, as if every valentine in the world had been squeezed dry, distilled into one poisonous mixture. His face was handsome, but also harsh—as difficult to look at as a spotlight. When he looked at Jason, Jason felt like he was being eyed like a hunter eyes a deer.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?” Nico demanded. “You’re worse than Kronos. Worse than Gaea.”

Cupid ignored Nico. His eyes remained fixed on Jason. “Oh, I wouldn’t say Love always makes you happy.” His voice sounded smaller, much more human. “Sometimes it makes you incredibly sad. But to live a life and not acknowledge me… that is a far worse fate than you could imagine.”

He turned to Nico. “I hope you too learned your lesson. My mother and I can influence Love and help you come to terms with it, but it is you who must make the next step. Only you can truly make Love your own.”

Cupid dissolved into the wind.

On the ground where he’d stood lay an ivory staff three feet long, topped with a dark globe of polished marble about the size of a baseball, nestled on the backs of three gold Roman eagles.

The scepter of Diocletian.

Nico knelt and picked it up. He regarded Jason carefully. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you come. I should have done this myself. Cupid wouldn’t have had a target if I came alone.”

Jason didn’t say anything for a while. He stared at the spot where Cupid had been.

“Piper told me that Annabeth said she should make sure that a relationship was what she wanted,” Jason finally said. “I’m guessing we were together in your timeline. I’m also guessing it didn’t last.”

“I’m sorry,” Nico repeated. He shifted awkwardly. “Look, I’m not… I don’t do feelings, but I get it. I used to have a crush on Percy who was obviously never going to like me like that. Not when he had Annabeth. I got over it, but… It sucks, you know?”

That reminded Jason.

“You brought me with you,” he said. “You knew what Cupid wanted you to do, at least you thought you did. You… you  _ wanted _ me to hear you.”

Nico ducked his head. “I think Bianca knew I was, you know, gay. I don’t think she cared. But she was dead and moved on. You were the first person who accepted me. And you promised to keep it a secret until I was ready to tell everyone else. I’ll always appreciate that. So yeah, I wanted to tell you.”

“Do you still want to keep it secret?”

Nico paused. “No. I don’t think so. I want to talk to Hazel first, of course. After the war is over. I’m not really as nervous as I was the first time. She took it pretty well. And I made sure to educate her on a lot more issues this time.” He cleared his throat. “But we should get back to the ship.”

Jason started. “Right. Yes. I can fly us—”

“No,” Nico announced. “This time we’re shadow-travelling. I’ve had enough of the winds for a while. And, Jason?”

“Hmm?”

“You should know that Piper did love you,” Nico said. “Maybe not the way you wanted her to, but she was devastated when you died.”

“Was she happy?” Jason asked. “Did things get better for her?”

Nico gave him a small smile. “Yeah. When we left, she was happy. But don’t base your life on the future’s past. Tell her how you feel if you want. It doesn’t matter what used to be. What does matter is that you do what you need to be happy. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it's that happiness—” Nico shook his head ruefully “—happiness isn’t just in the having. It’s in just being. It’s in just saying. Gods, I can’t believe I’m quoting that,” he sighed. “I told you about Percy and I felt better. I told Percy and Annabeth how I felt and I felt free for the first time in a long time. I started to let myself feel happy. Because everyone deserves to be happy.” He held out his hand. “Ready?”

Jason took a deep breath. “Ready.”

He took Nico’s offered hand and they stepped into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all... I like the idea of Reyna watching Supernatural and getting Nico to watch it. If you've read disasters, I think I've included that in one of the chapters. Now, say what you will about the ending of that show, but Cas's speech is amazing and perfection. A little vague yes, but I digress. I could probably type up a long explanation about my feelings on the show's ending because it went through a lot of phases. However, this is not a SPN fic and I don't expect everyone reading this to watch the show, so I won't do that here. If you want my opinions, I'd be happy to discuss in the comments. Also, this quote is like really applicable for Nico?
> 
> Second, I firmly believe Jason loves Piper, but Piper does not love Jason. At least not romantically. Just based on their characters during the Burning Maze. Piper says she feels like Hera and Aphrodite forced them into this what with the Mist memories and everything, but for Jason who doesn't remember those Mist memories, his feelings are based on real memories.
> 
> Third, here's my explanation for why Jason has twelve marks on his tattoo when he's only sixteen. I'm sure Rick probably intended it to be something like each tattoo for each year you're at Camp Jupiter and then when it came time to write Son of Neptune he forgot or something, but... Three year old Jason joining (or being forced to join) because he's Jupiter's kid and he's supposed to be big man on campus seemed like a reasonable (in terms of explaining why, it's not reasonable to let a three year old join the army) explanation why.
> 
> Anyway, sorry that's so long. Just had a lot to say about this chapter.


	39. Allegra Offers Me A Ride (Bianca XXXIX)

FINDING OUT YOUR BROTHER HAD SURVIVED TARTARUS and was currently traversing the European continent was just another average day in the life of a demigod. That didn’t mean Bianca had to like it.

After Rachel and Grover had left to go parlay with Reyna, Bianca had turned to grilling Will with all her questions.

“Does she go?”

Will sighed. “Yes. Reyna goes.”

“How is she going to get the statue here?”

Will hesitated. “Nico. He shadow travels Reyna and Coach Hedge with the statue. They’ll get here on August 1st. Just in time to stop the Greeks and Romans from fighting and to unite against Gaea.”

“He’s going to do that by himself?” Bianca screeched.

She knew Nico was capable of so much. He no longer needed his older—well, younger now—sister to look out for him. Bianca supposed she forfeited that luxury when she joined the Hunters years ago. But that didn’t change the fact that every instinct in her body told her that she should be shielding her baby brother from everything dangerous.

“Do you know where Rachel’s meeting Reyna?”

Will frowned. “Why do you want to know  _ that, _ Bianca?”

“Do you?”

“No,” Will said. “Somewhere in Manhattan, but…” he trailed off. “Look. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. It took all my self-control to not forcibly restrain Rachel and Grover. The building was provided by the Triumvirate. They were both fine last time, but last time I didn’t know about the funding behind the wars. Now I do.”

Bianca sighed. “I should have gone after them. You wanted to go earlier and I stopped you. We could have made it.”

“You were right to stop me,” Will said. “Running off half-cocked like that… it would have gotten me killed or worse.”

Bianca bit her lip. “So what do we do now? Just sit here and wait?”

“No,” Will said. “We get ready for war. On August 1st, one way or another, we will be fighting an enemy.”

Bianca pulled out her black knife. “I’m not so good at fighting.”

“Maybe not hand to hand, but you’re great at archery,” Will said. “Much better than Nico or I.” He patted her arm. “Don’t worry. Everything will work out.”

“How do you do that? Stay so optimistic.”

Will shrugged. “It’s just who I am, I guess. I’ve got a shift at the infirmary now though. I’ve got to go.” He dashed off across camp towards the infirmary building.

Bianca stayed where she was. She slumped down to sit with her back against a tree.

“Oh, no,” a voice cut in. “I know that look.”

Bianca turned her head to see Allegra Nakamura walking towards her. “Allegra! Hey.”

Allegra crossed her arms and sat down in front of Bianca. “What’s up with your brother’s brooding look?”

“My brother’s what?”

“Brooding look,” Allegra said. She waved a hand at Bianca’s face. “You know. He gets all grumpy and moody and the only sunshine is Will. Speaking of those two,  _ di immortales! _ I thought I’d be glad to be rid of the pining, but I kinda miss it. They’re cute.”

Bianca couldn’t help her smile. “They are.”

“So? The brooding look?”

“I’m not…” she trailed off. “Okay, I guess I am. I’m worried about Nico. He went through Tartarus alone and now he’s stuck in Greece with the Seven and I feel like I should be there for him. I… I’ve let him down too many times now.” Bianca looked at Allegra. “I’m supposed to be his big sister. But every day I’ve been at Camp Half-Blood, I’m reminded of how Nico’s the older one now and he doesn’t need me to protect him anymore.”

“You can’t help that you died, Bianca,” Allegra pointed out. “You gave up your life to save Nico’s life. Then you came back to life years later. I think Nico’s just grateful you’re alive.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Bianca shook her head. “I… I have been watching over Nico and protecting him for  _ decades. _ ”

“Decades? Bianca, that doesn’t make any sense—”

“Nico and I were born in the 1920s,” Bianca blurted. “Hades met our mother in the 1920s and they had Nico and me. We were happy. Then the prophecy was given. The Great Prophecy that Percy just fulfilled last summer. Zeus wanted us to go to Camp Half-Blood, but my mother and Hades wouldn’t send us.” She blinked back tears. “Zeus sent a lightning bolt to kill us. Hades saved Nico and I, but he couldn’t save our mother.”

Allegra’s hands were covering her mouth in shock or disgust, Bianca couldn’t tell through her tears.

“Hades sent Alecto to dip Nico and I into the Lethe so we would forget,” she continued. “I don’t think Nico has gotten much of those memories back. I… I have them all. When I died, they came back to me. And then we were taken to the Lotus Hotel and Casino. Time stands still there. Seventy years later, Hades ordered Alecto to bring us back out.” She clenched her fists. “I didn’t know it was seventy years, but I felt like it. I was practically Nico’s mom for seventy years! So yeah, when the Hunters showed up and Artemis offered me a spot, I was excited. I could finally be free of the responsibility of looking after my eleven year old brother. Because it wasn’t fair that I had to watch him. I made sure Nico would be okay at Camp. Percy is a great guy and Annabeth and Thalia are amazing. At the time, they were all campers. I felt good about leaving Nico with them. He would be fine without me. So I took my escape. And then I was claimed.”

Allegra had been silent throughout Bianca’s whole tirade. Until now. “What was so bad about being claimed?”

“I was feeling uneasy about joining the Hunters after the initial excitement,” Bianca admitted. “I didn’t understand why. When I was claimed by Hades, I kind of pieced together everything. I understand death. What it means, why it’s necessary, why it’s not something to be afraid of, and most importantly, the rules of death. But the Hunters… they’re immortal. They cheat death everyday. No one should live longer than their time. I told myself that it was fine. I’d find Artemis and tell her that I couldn’t be part of her Hunters. But I died on the quest. I left my brother for  _ immortality _ and then I left him in death. And now he’s grown up.”

“That doesn’t make you a bad sister,” Allegra said. “You did your best in an unimaginable situation.”

“I should have done more.” Bianca stabbed the ground with her knife. A small skeleton mouse climbed out of the ground and crawled up her arm.

“So do something,” Allegra said suddenly. “You could go help Nico.”

“How?” Bianca asked. “I’d need a ride and I already tried asking Will where Rachel and Grover were meeting Reyna. He told me he wouldn’t tell me even if he knew.”

“All you need is a ride?” Allegra grinned. “Aren’t you forgetting who you’re talking to? As head counselor of Iris cabin, I technically own the flying chariot.”

“I thought it was Camp property,” Bianca frowned.

“I  _ said _ the Camp could use it as Camp property,” Allegra corrected. “But I still own it.” She stood up. “Come on. We’ll take the chariot to Epirus and meet the Seven when they arrive at the House of Hades.” Allegra offered a hand up to Bianca.

Bianca felt a small smile spread across her face. She took Allegra’s hand and pulled herself up.

“Okay,” she said. “But we need a plan first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bianca chapter! Hope you guys liked it! I've only written the one little Bianca chapter at the end of Last Olympian before, but here's another one and there's definitely going to be a few more eventually.


	40. If You See A Drakon, You're Going in the Right Direction (Annabeth XL)

IT FELT LIKE THE BIGGEST INSULT OF ALL. She had traded Calypso’s curse for Kelli’s, yet Percy still wound up with Phineas’s curse. Perhaps that had been Annabeth’s real curse. Watching Percy slowly die from gorgon’s blood—again.

Bob slung Percy over his shoulder like a bag of sports equipment while the skeleton kitten Small Bob curled up on Percy’s back and purred. Bob lumbered along at a fast pace, even for a Titan, which made it almost impossible for Annabeth to keep up.

Her lungs rattled. Her skin had started to blister again. She probably needed another drink of firewater, but they’d left the River Phlegethon behind. Her body was so sore and battered that she’d forgotten what it was like not to be in pain.

“How much longer?” she wheezed.

“Almost too long,” Bob called back. “But maybe not.”

As much as she loved Bob, the Titan could give some pretty unhelpful answers.

The landscape changed again. They were still going downhill, which should have made travelling easier, but the ground sloped at just the wrong angle—too steep to jog, too treacherous to let her guard down even for a moment. The surface was sometimes loose gravel, sometimes patches of slime.

Annabeth stepped around random bristles sharp enough to impale her foot, and clusters of… well, not rocks exactly. More like warts the size of watermelons. If Annabeth had to guess (and she didn’t want to) she supposed Bob was leading her down the length of Tartarus’s large intestine.

The air got thicker and stank of sewage. The darkness maybe wasn’t quite as intense, but she could only see Bob because of the glint of his white hair and the point of his spear. She noticed he hadn’t retracted the spearhead on his broom since their fight with the arai. That didn’t reassure her.

Percy flopped around, causing the kitten to readjust his nest in the small of Percy’s back. Occasionally Percy would groan in pain, and Annabeth felt like a fist was squeezing her heart. This wasn’t the life they were supposed to have. They should be crashing in one of their college dorms studying for tests now. It was supposed to be a happy ending.

But Annabeth knew the old myths about the tragic Greek heroes. They didn’t get happy endings. They fought monsters and went on quests until one day they just didn’t come back. She couldn’t help but wonder if the quest she and Percy wouldn’t come back from would be this one.

_ Stop it, _ she chided herself.

She had to concentrate on the present, putting one foot in front of the other, taking this downhill intestinal hike one giant wart at a time.

Her knees felt warm and wobbly, like wire hangers bent to the point of snapping. Percy groaned and muttered something she couldn’t make out.

Bob stopped suddenly. “Look.”

Ahead in the gloom, the terrain levelled out into a black swamp. Sulphur-yellow mist hung in the air. Even without sunlight, there were actual plants—clumps of reeds, scrawny leafless trees, even a few sickly-looking flowers blooming in the muck. Mossy trails wound between bubbling tar pits. Directly in front of Annabeth, sunk into the bog, were footprints the size of trashcan lids, with long, pointed toes.

“Drakon,” Annabeth said.

“Yes.” Bob grinned at her. “That is good! We are close.”

Bob marched into the swamp. Annabeth hurried after him, hopping from moss patch to moss patch and praying to Athena that she didn’t fall in a sinkhole.

At least the terrain forced Bob to go more slowly. Once Annabeth caught up, she could walk right behind him and keep an eye on Percy, who was muttering deliriously, his forehead dangerously hot. Several times he mumbled Annabeth and she fought back a sob. The kitten just purred louder and snuggled up.

Finally the yellow mist parted, revealing a muddy clearing like an island in the muck. The ground was dotted with stunted trees and wart mounds. In the centre loomed a large, domed hut made of bones and greenish leather. Smoke rose from a hole in the top. The entrance was covered with curtains of scaly reptile skin and, flanking the entrance, two torches made from colossal femur bones burned bright yellow.

What really caught Annabeth’s attention was the drakon skull. Fifty yards into the clearing, about halfway to the hut, a massive oak tree jutted from the ground at a forty-five-degree angle. The jaws of a drakon skull encircled the trunk, as if the oak tree were the dead monster’s tongue.

“Yes,” Bob murmured. “This is very good.”

_ Damasen, _ Annabeth thought. Yes, this _was_ very good.

Small Bob arched his back and hissed. Behind them, a mighty roar echoed through the swamp—a sound Annabeth had last heard in this very swamp.

She turned and saw the drakon charging towards them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to Damasen!


	41. Ding Dong the Drakon's Dead! (Annabeth XLI)

AS STRANGE AS IT WAS, Annabeth still found the drakon beautiful.

Its hide was dappled green and yellow, like sunlight through a forest canopy. Its reptilian eyes were Annabeth’s favourite shade of sea green (just like Percy’s). When its frills unfurled around its head, Annabeth couldn’t help but think what a regal and amazing monster it was. It was easily as long as a subway train. Its massive talons dug into the mud as it pulled itself forward, its tail whipping from side to side. The drakon hissed, spitting jets of green poison that smoked on the mossy ground and set tar pits on fire, filling the air with the scent of fresh pine and ginger. The monster even smelled good. Like most drakons, it was wingless, longer and more snake-like than a dragon, and it looked hungry.

“Bob,” Annabeth said.

“Do not worry,” Bob said. “Any minute—”

“ROOOOOAAAR!”

Annabeth turned as the giant emerged from his hut.

He was about twenty feet tall—typical giant height—with a humanoid upper body and scaly reptilian legs, like a bipedal dinosaur. He held no weapon. Instead of armour, he wore only a shirt stitched together from sheep hides and green-spotted leather. His skin was cherry-red; his beard and hair the color of iron rust, braided with tufts of grass, leaves and swamp flowers. He shouted in challenge. Bob pulled Annabeth out of the way as the giant stormed towards the drakon.

They clashed like some sort of weird Christmas combat scene—the red versus the green. The drakon spewed poison. The giant lunged to one side. He grabbed the oak tree and pulled it from the ground, roots and all. The old skull crumbled to dust as the giant hefted the tree like a baseball bat. The drakon’s tail lashed around the giant’s waist, dragging him closer to its gnashing teeth. But as soon as the giant was in range he shoved the tree straight down the monster’s throat.

Annabeth had hoped she never had to see such a gruesome scene again. Naturally, the Fates were laughing in her face again. The tree pierced the drakon’s gullet and impaled it on the ground. The roots began to move, digging deeper as they touched the earth, anchoring the oak until it looked like it had stood in that spot for centuries. The drakon shook and thrashed, but it was pinned fast.

The giant brought his fist down on the drakon’s neck.  _ CRACK _ .The monster went limp. It began to dissolve, leaving only scraps of bone, meat, hide and a new drakon skull whose open jaws ringed the oak tree.

Bob grunted. “Good one.”

The kitten purred in agreement and started cleaning his paws.

The giant kicked at the drakon’s remains, examining them critically. “No good bones,” he complained. “I wanted a new walking stick. Hmpf. Some good skin for the outhouse, though.” He ripped some soft hide from the dragon’s frills and tucked it in his belt.

“Um… hi,” Annabeth said. Her eyes were filled with emotion that she was sure would confuse Bob and Damasen, but seeing the both of them together was too much. They were both  _ alive _ again.

She cleared her throat. “I mean, my… my friend is dying and Bob said you could help.”

“Did he?” The giant glanced over from his work. His eyes narrowed under his bushy red brows. “And why would Bob say that?”

Bob shifted his weight. “Damasen is a good giant,” he said. “He is peaceful. He can cure poisons.”

Annabeth watched the giant Damasen, who was now ripping chunks of bloody meat from the drakon carcass with his bare hands.

“Good meat for dinner.” Damasen stood up straight and studied Annabeth, as if she were another potential source of protein. “Come inside. We will have stew. Then we will see about this promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Damasen!


	42. I Tell My Life's Story to a Giant (Annabeth XLII)

BEFORE MEETING DAMASEN, Annabeth never thought she would describe anything in Tartarus as cozy, but, despite the fact that the giant’s hut was as big as a planetarium and constructed of bones, mud and drakon skin, it definitely felt cosy.

In the centre blazed a bonfire made of pitch and bone; yet the smoke was white and odourless, rising through the hole in the middle of the ceiling. The floor was covered with dry marsh grass and grey wool rugs. At one end lay a massive bed of sheepskins and drakon leather. At the other end, freestanding racks were hung with drying plants, cured leather and what looked like strips of drakon jerky. The whole place smelled of stew, smoke, basil and thyme.

Bob placed Percy in the giant’s bed, where he nearly disappeared in the wool and leather. Small Bob hopped off Percy and kneaded the blankets, purring so strongly the bed rattled like a Thousand Finger Massage.

Damasen plodded to the bonfire. He tossed his drakon meat into a hanging pot that seemed to be made from an old monster skull, then picked up a ladle and began to stir.

“So…” Annabeth began. “Can you cure my friend or not?”

She probably should have used a word stronger than friend, but she wasn’t sure if there  _ was _ a word to describe what Percy was to her. Boyfriend didn’t quite cover it. After all they’d been through, Percy was a part of her—a part she could not live without. At this point they were practically married. The thought almost made her blush.

Damasen looked down at her, glowering under his bushy red eyebrows. He radiated sorrow and bitterness, as if he were so wrapped up in his own misery that he resented Annabeth for trying to make him focus on anything else.

“I don’t hear words like those in Tartarus,” the giant grumbled. “Friend.”

Annabeth crossed her arms. “How about gorgon’s blood? Can you cure that, or did Bob overstate your talents?”

She knew that would get him. She wished she didn’t have to goad Damasen into healing Percy, but this was something Annabeth was not willing to risk changing. If she made the wrong change to this moment, it would mean the end of Percy’s life.

Damasen scowled at her. “You question my talents? A half-dead mortal straggles into my swamp and questions my talents?”

“Yep,” she said.

“Hmph.” Damasen handed Bob the ladle. “Stir.”

As Bob tended the stew, Damasen perused his drying racks, plucking various leaves and roots. He popped a fistful of plant material into his mouth, chewed it up then spat it into a clump of wool.

“Cup of broth,” Damasen ordered.

Bob ladled some stew juice into a hollow gourd. He handed it to Damasen, who dunked the chewed-up gunk ball and stirred it with his finger.

“Gorgon’s blood,” he muttered. “Hardly a challenge for my talents.”

He lumbered to the bedside and propped up Percy with one hand. Small Bob the kitten sniffed the broth and hissed. He scratched the sheets with his paws like he wanted to bury it.

Annabeth watched as the giant made Percy sip the broth. Damasen handled him with gentleness, murmuring words of encouragement that she couldn’t quite catch.

With each sip, Percy’s color improved. He drained the cup, and his eyes fluttered open. He looked around with a dazed expression, spotted Annabeth and gave her a drunken grin. “Feel great.” His eyes rolled up in his head. He fell back in the bed and began to snore.

“A few hours of sleep,” Damasen pronounced. “He’ll be good as new.”

Annabeth sobbed with relief. “Thank you,” she said.

Damasen stared at her mournfully. “Oh, don’t thank me. You’re still doomed. And I require payment for my services.”

“What do you want?”

“A story.” The giant’s eyes glittered. “It gets boring in Tartarus. You can tell me your story while we eat, eh?”

Annabeth didn’t hesitate this time. She told Damasen about her life and her adventures with Percy. She explained how Percy had met Bob, wiped his memory in the River Lethe and left him in the care of Hades.

“Percy was trying to do something good,” she promised Bob. “He really is your friend. I… I hope you know that.”

Bob petted Small Bob. “I know. Percy talked to me more after he woke up. Before you woke up.” Bob washed his bowl with his squirt bottle and rag.

Damasen made a rolling gesture with his spoon. “Continue your story, Annabeth Chase.”

She explained about their quest in the  _ Argo II. _ When she got to the part about stopping Gaea from waking, she winced. “She’s, um… she’s your mom. You don’t mind us fighting her?”

Damasen scraped his bowl. His face was covered with old poison burns, gouges and scar tissue, so it looked like the surface of an asteroid.

“Yes,” he said. “Gaea is my mother and Tartarus is my father.” He gestured around the hut. “As you can see, I was a disappointment to my parents. They expected… more from me.” He snorted. “I wish you the best of luck fighting mother. But at present, it’s my father you should worry about. With him opposing you, you have no chance to survive.”

The reminder made Annabeth feel less hungry. She put her bowl on the floor. Small Bob came over to check it out.

“All of this.” Damasen cracked a drakon bone and used a splinter as a toothpick. “All that you see is the body of Tartarus, or at least one manifestation of it. He knows you are here. He tries to thwart your progress at every step. My brethren hunt you. It is remarkable you have lived this long, even with the help of Iapetus.”

Bob scowled when he heard his name. “The defeated ones hunt us, yes. They will be close behind now.”

Damasen spat out his toothpick. “I can obscure your path for a while, long enough for you to rest. I have power in this swamp. But eventually they will catch you.”

“My friends must reach the Doors of Death,” Bob said. “That is the way out.”

“Impossible,” Damasen muttered. “The Doors are too well guarded.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Annabeth said. “We have to close them.”

“What doesn’t matter is that you will not make it there alive with only Iapetus.”

“Then come with us,” Annabeth said. “Help us.”

“HA!”

Annabeth jumped. In the bed, Percy muttered deliriously in his sleep, “Ha, ha, ha.”

“Child of Athena,” the giant said, “I am not your friend. I helped mortals once, and you see where it got me.”

“I know your story,” Annabeth said. “Your mother punished you for avenging the death of a human shepherd. She exiled you here.”

“Yes.” Damasen looked ashamed. “Gaea opened the earth, and I was consumed, exiled here in the belly of my father Tartarus, where all the useless flotsam collects—all the bits of creation he does not care for.” The giant plucked a flower out of his hair and regarded it absently. “They let me live, tending my sheep, collecting my herbs, so I might know the uselessness of the life I chose. Every day—or what passes for day in this lightless place—the Maeonian drakon reforms and attacks me. Killing it is my endless task.”

Damasen had been trapped here for eons—slaying the drakon, collecting its bones and hide and meat—knowing the drakon would attack again the next day. That wasn’t fair. The gentle giant deserved better.

“Break the curse,” she blurted out. “Come with us.”

Damasen chuckled sourly. “As simple as that. Don’t you think I have tried to leave this place? It is impossible. No matter which direction I travel, I end up here again. The swamp is the only thing I know—the only destination I can imagine. No, little demigod. My curse has overtaken me. I have no hope left.”

“No hope,” Bob echoed.

“Don’t,” Annabeth said. “Don’t you dare say that. Hope is what keeps us going because if we lost all hope, we’d just curl up and wait for death. I have hope that Percy and I will make it out of here alive. I have hope that we will find and close the doors of Death. Don’t you dare say that you have no hope because you should.  _ I _ believe in you. You should believe in yourself too.”

“And how do you propose to reach the Doors?” Damasen asked.

“Bob said we could hide in the Death Mist,” Annabeth said.

“Death Mist?” Damasen scowled at Bob. “You would take them to Akhlys?”

“It is the only way,” Bob said.

“You will die,” Damasen said. “Painfully. In darkness. Akhlys trusts no one and helps no one.”

Bob looked like he wanted to argue, but he pressed his lips together and remained silent.

“Is there another way?” Annabeth asked.

“No,” Damasen said. “The Death Mist… that is the best plan. Unfortunately, it is a terrible plan.”

“But isn’t it worth trying?” she asked. “You could return to the mortal world. You could see the sun and stars again.”

Damasen’s eyes were like the sockets of the drakon’s skull—dark and hollow, devoid of hope. He flicked a broken bone into the fire and rose to his full height—a massive red warrior in sheepskin and drakon leather, with dried flowers and herbs in his hair. Annabeth could see how he was the anti-Ares. Ares was the worst god, blustery and violent. Damasen was the best giant, kind and helpful… and for that he’d been cursed to eternal torment.

“Get some sleep,” the giant said. “I will prepare supplies for your journey. I am sorry, but I cannot do more.”

Annabeth wanted to argue, but, as soon as he said sleep, her body betrayed her, despite her resolution never to sleep in Tartarus again. Her belly was full. The fire made a pleasant crackling sound. The herbs in the air reminded her of the hills around Camp Half-Blood in the summer, when the satyrs and naiads gathered wild plants in the lazy afternoons.

“Maybe a little sleep,” she agreed.

Bob scooped her up like a rag doll. She didn’t protest. He set her next to Percy on the giant’s bed, and she closed her eyes.


	43. Talking About Sun and Stars (Annabeth XLIII)

ANNABETH WOKE STARING at the shadows dancing across the hut’s ceiling. She hadn’t had a single dream. That was so unusual, she wasn’t sure if she’d actually woken up.

As she lay there, Percy snoring next to her and Small Bob purring on her belly, she heard Bob and Damasen deep in conversation.

“You haven’t told her,” Damasen said.

“No,” Bob admitted. “She is already scared.”

The giant grumbled. “She should be. And if you cannot guide them past Night?”

Annabeth suppressed a shudder at the mention of the primordial goddess.

“I have to,” Bob said.

“Why?” Damasen wondered. “What have the demigods given you? They have erased your old self, everything you were. Titans and giants… we are meant to be the foes of the gods and their children. Are we not?”

“Then why did you heal the boy?”

Damasen exhaled. “I have been wondering that myself. Perhaps because the girl goaded me, or perhaps… I find these two demigods intriguing. They are resilient to have made it so far. That is admirable. Still, how can we help them any further? It is not our fate.”

“Perhaps,” Bob said uncomfortably. “But… do you like our fate?”

“What a question. Does anyone like his fate?”

“I liked being Bob,” Bob murmured. “Before I started to remember…”

“Huh.” There was a shuffling sound, as if Damasen was stuffing a leather bag.

“Damasen,” the Titan asked, “do you remember the sun?”

The shuffling stopped. Annabeth heard the giant exhale through his nostrils. “Yes. It was yellow. When it touched the horizon, it turned the sky beautiful colors.”

“I miss the sun,” Bob said. “The stars, too. I would like to say  _ hello  _ to the stars again.”

“Stars…” Damasen said the word as if he’d forgotten its meaning. “Yes. They made silver patterns in the night sky.” He threw something to the floor with a thump. “Bah. This is useless talk. We cannot—”

In the distance, the Maeonian drakon roared.

Percy sat bolt upright. “What? What—where—what?”

“It’s okay.” Annabeth took his arm.

When he registered that they were together in a giant’s bed with a skeleton cat, he looked more confused than ever. “That noise… where are we?”

“Damasen’s hut,” she answered carefully.

Percy blinked. “Huh.”

Damasen loomed over the bed. “There is no time, little mortals. The drakon is returning. I fear its roar will draw the others—my brethren, hunting you. They will be here within minutes.” He tossed them two drakon-leather satchels. “Clothes, food, drink. Your other bag will be protected here as well.”

Bob was wearing a similar but larger pack. He leaned on his broom, gazing at Annabeth as if still pondering Damasen’s words:  _ What have the demigods given you? We are meant to be the foes of the gods and their children. _

That reminded her.

“The Prophecy of Seven,” she said. Annabeth grabbed Damasen’s hand, startling the giant. His brow furrowed. His skin was as rough as sandstone.

“You have to come with us,” she pleaded. “The prophecy says foes bear arms to the Doors of Death. I thought it meant Romans and Greeks, but that’s not it. The line means us—demigods, a Titan, a giant. We need you to close the Doors!”

The drakon roared outside, closer this time. Damasen gently pulled his hand away.

“No, child,” he murmured. “My curse is here. I cannot escape it.”

“Yes, you can,” Annabeth said. “Don’t fight the drakon. Figure out a way to break the cycle! Find another fate.”

Damasen shook his head. “Even if I could, I cannot leave this swamp. It is the only destination I can picture.”

“There  _ is _ another destination,” Annabeth said. “Look at me! Remember my face. When you’re ready, come find me. We’ll take you to the mortal world with…” she stuttered. “We’ll take you through the Doors of Death. You can see the sunlight and stars.”

The ground shook. The drakon was close now, stomping through the marsh, blasting trees and moss with its poison spray. Further away, Annabeth heard the voice of the giant Polybotes, urging his followers forward. “THE SEA GOD’S SON! HE IS CLOSE!”

“Annabeth,” Percy said gently.

Damasen took something from his belt. In his massive hand, the white shard looked like another toothpick, but when he offered it to Annabeth she realized it was a sword—a blade of dragon bone, honed to a deadly edge, with a simple grip of leather. Her sword.

“One last gift for the child of Athena,” rumbled the giant. “I cannot have you walking to your death armed with just a small dagger. Now, go! Before it is too late.”

“Damasen,” she said. “Don’t give up on yourself. I haven’t.”

“We must leave,” Bob urged as his kitten climbed onto his shoulder.

“Goodbye, daughter of Athena,” Damasen said quietly as he turned away.

They ran for the entrance. Annabeth didn’t look back as she followed Percy and Bob into the swamp, but she heard Damasen behind them, shouting his battle cry at the advancing drakon, his voice cracking with despair as he faced his old enemy yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOB SAYS HELLO!!!!!
> 
> Speaking of sad quotes... I was just reading Dark Prophecy and the night before Apollo and Meg leave the Waystation to find the oracle, Leo and Calypso tell Apollo: "If you need us, holler. We'll be there." Doesn't that sound an awful lot like another quote? "Call on me. I will be there for you."


	44. I Interpret the Prophecy (Piper XLIV)

PIPER DIDN’T KNOW MUCH about the Mediterranean, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to freeze in July.

Two days out to sea from Split, grey clouds swallowed the sky. The waves turned choppy. Cold drizzle sprayed across the deck, forming ice on the rails and the ropes.

“It’s the scepter,” Nico murmured, hefting the ancient staff.

Piper figured that wasn’t the whole truth. Nico hadn’t been able to meet anyone’s eyes when they asked him about the weather. That was annoying. Sometimes Nico would wait until after something happened to tell them about it. She understood, really, she did. Like with the kerkopes, Nico couldn’t say anything about preventing it because they  _ needed _ to go after them to get the book they returned to the god in Venice. But she wished Nico could give them a little advice.

But it did make sense that the scepter might have caused this weather change. The black orb on top seemed to leach the color right out of the air. The golden eagles at its base glinted coldly. The scepter could supposedly control the dead, and it definitely gave off bad vibes. Coach Hedge had taken one look at the thing, turned pale and announced that he was going to his room to console himself with Chuck Norris videos. (Although Piper suspected that he was actually making Iris-messages back home to his girlfriend Mellie; the coach had been acting very agitated about her lately, though he wouldn’t tell Piper what was going on.)

So, yes… maybe the scepter could cause a freak ice storm. But Piper didn’t think that was it. She feared something else was happening—something even worse.

“We can’t talk up here,” Jason decided. “Let’s postpone the meeting.”

They’d all gathered on the quarterdeck to discuss strategy as they got closer to Epirus. Now it was clearly not a good place to hang out. Wind swept frost across the deck. The sea churned beneath them.

Piper didn’t mind the waves so much. The rocking and pitching reminded her of surfing with her dad off the California coast. But she could tell Hazel wasn’t doing well. The poor girl got seasick even in calm waters. She looked like she was trying to swallow a billiard ball.

“Need to—” Hazel gagged and pointed below.

“Yeah, go.” Nico kissed her cheek.

“I’ll walk you down.” Frank put his arm around Hazel’s waist and helped her to the stairs.

Piper hoped Hazel would be okay. The last few nights, since that fight with Sciron, they’d had some good talks together. Being the only two girls on board was kind of rough. They’d shared stories, complained about the guys’ gross habits and shed some tears together about Annabeth. Hazel had told her what it was like to control the Mist, and Piper had been surprised by how much it sounded like using charmspeak. Piper had offered to help her if she could. In return, Hazel had promised to coach her in sword fighting—a skill at which Piper epically sucked. Piper felt like she had a new friend, which was great… assuming they lived long enough to enjoy the friendship.

Nico brushed some ice from his hair. He frowned at the scepter of Diocletian. “I should put this thing away. If it’s really causing the weather, maybe taking it below deck will help…”

“Sure,” Jason said.

“Be careful,” Nico added.

That was a pretty good tip off that  _ something _ was going to happen.

“You telling demigods to be careful?” Alex snorted. “What kind of blasphemy is that?”

“Just be careful,” Nico said flatly. He turned and headed belowdecks.

Leo pulled a screwdriver from his belt. “So much for the big team meeting. Looks like it’s just us again.” He glanced at Magnus and Alex. “Well, and those two.”

“Thanks,” Magnus said sarcastically.

_ Just us again. _

Piper didn’t miss the way Jason’s smile slipped from his face at that. Ever since Croatia, her friend seemed to be getting harder to read. Neither Nico nor Jason had said anything about what happened other than some god attacked them before handing over the scepter. She wished they would open up about it. Something had happened and she didn’t know how to fix it.

_ Just us again. _

Piper remembered a wintry day in Chicago last December, when the three of them had landed in Millennial Park on their first quest.

Leo hadn’t changed much since then, except he seemed more comfortable in his role as a child of Hephaestus. He’d always had too much nervous energy. Now he knew how to use it. His hands were constantly in motion, pulling tools from his belt, working controls, tinkering with his beloved Archimedes sphere. Today he’d removed it from the control panel and shut down Festus the figurehead for maintenance—something about rewiring his processor for a motor-control upgrade with the sphere, whatever the heck that meant.

As for Jason, he looked thinner, taller and more careworn. His hair had gone from close-cropped Roman style to longer and shaggier. The groove Sciron had shot across the left side of his scalp was interesting, too—almost like a rebellious streak. His icy blue eyes looked older, somehow—full of worry and responsibility.

Piper knew what her friends whispered about Jason—he was too perfect, too straitlaced. If that had ever been true, it wasn’t any more. He’d been battered on this journey, and not just physically. His hardships hadn’t weakened him, but he’d been weathered and softened like leather—as if he were becoming a more comfortable version of himself.

And Piper? She could only imagine what Leo and Jason thought when they looked at her. She definitely didn’t feel like the same person she’d been last winter.

That first quest to rescue Hera seemed like centuries ago. So much had changed in seven months… she wondered how the gods could stand being alive for thousands of years. How much change had they seen? Maybe it wasn’t surprising that the Olympians seemed a little crazy. If Piper had lived through three millennia, she would have gone loopy.

Gods, how could Nico, Magnus, and Alex stand it? Reliving their lives a second time. And Percy and Annabeth… One thing was for sure. They were a lot stronger than Piper ever would be.

She gazed into the cold rain. She would have given anything to be back at Camp Half-Blood, where the weather was controlled even in the winter. The images she’d seen in her knife recently… well, they didn’t give her much to look forward to.

Jason cleared his throat. “So Nico says that if we stay on this course, we should reach Epirus in another day or so.”

“Which means we probably won’t stay on course at all,” Leo scowled. “I could strangle that kid.”

“He’s doing his best,” Jason said. “We all are. Let’s just focus on getting to the House of Hades.”

“Yay,” Piper muttered.

She wasn’t anxious to plunge into the darkness again. She still had nightmares about the nymphaeum and the hypogeum under Rome. In the blade of Katoptris, she’d seen images similar to what Leo and Hazel had described from their dreams—a pale sorceress in a gold dress, her hands weaving golden light in the air like silk on a loom; a giant wrapped in shadows, marching down a long corridor lined with torches. As he passed each one, the flames died. She saw a huge cavern filled with monsters—Cyclopes, Earthborn and stranger things—surrounding her and her friends, hopelessly outnumbering them.

Every time she saw those images, a voice in her head kept repeating one line over and over.

“Guys,” she said, “I’ve been thinking about the Prophecy of Seven.”

It took a lot to get Leo’s attention away from his work, but that did the trick.

“What about it?” he asked. “Like… good stuff, I hope?”

She readjusted her cornucopia’s shoulder strap. Sometimes the horn of plenty seemed so light she forgot about it. Other times it felt like an anvil, as if the river god Achelous were sending out bad thoughts, trying to punish her for taking his horn.

“In Katoptris,” she started, “I keep seeing that giant Clytius—the guy who’s wrapped in shadows. I know his weakness is fire, but in my visions he snuffs out flames wherever he goes. Any kind of light just gets sucked into his cloud of darkness.”

“Sounds like Nico,” Leo said. “You think they’re related?”

“Dude,” Alex said, giving Leo a look.

Jason scowled. “Hey, man, cut Nico some slack. So. What about this giant? What are you thinking? Did you talk to Nico?”

“No,” Piper said, shaking her head. “I don’t think he wants to tell us about it.”

Magnus shrugged. “I mean, he’s not wrong to not tell you. If he tells you what it means, you’ll try to stop it, but that’ll only make it actually come true. Let it happen the way it’s supposed to.”

“You don’t know how it ends?” Piper asked.

“Not exactly,” Alex said. She looked pretty worried. “We know the general outline, but… like Magnus said. The prophecy will come true either way. You can let it happen naturally, or you can fight it. But if you fight it, it just becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

"In the wise words of Dr. Strange, if we tell you, it won't happen," Magnus said. "Not the right way anyway."

“Trying to prevent something from happening leads to that thing happening but worse,” Leo sighed. “I hate that. Alright, Pipes. Lay it on us. What are your deep thoughts on this prophecy.”

Piper hesitated. “I keep thinking about fire,” she said. “How we expect Leo to beat this giant because he’s…”

“Hot?” Leo suggested with a grin.

“Um, let’s go with flammable. Anyway, that line from the prophecy bothers me: To storm or fire the world must fall.”

“Yeah, we know all about it,” Leo promised. “You’re gonna say I’m fire. And Jason here is storm.”

Piper nodded reluctantly. She knew that none of them liked talking about this, but they all must have felt it was the truth.

The ship pitched to starboard. Jason grabbed the icy railing. “So you’re worried one of us will endanger the quest, maybe accidentally destroy the world?”

“No,” Piper said. “I think we’ve been reading that line the wrong way. The world… the earth. In Greek, the word for that would be…” She hesitated, not wanting to say the name aloud, even at sea.

“Gaea.” Jason’s eyes gleamed with sudden interest. “You mean, to storm or fire Gaea must fall?”

“Oh…” Leo grinned even wider. “You know, I like your version a lot better. ’Cause if Gaea falls to me, Mr Fire, that is absolutely copacetic.”

“Or to me… storm,” Jason said, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Brilliant.”

“Maybe.” She felt uneasy getting their hopes up. “But, see, it’s storm or fire…”

She unsheathed Katoptris and set it on the console. Immediately, the blade flickered, showing the dark shape of the giant Clytius moving through a corridor, snuffing out torches.

“I’m worried about Leo and this fight with Clytius,” she said. “That line in the prophecy makes it sound like only one of you can succeed. And if the storm or fire part is connected to the third line, an oath to keep with a final breath…”

She didn’t finish the thought, but from Jason’s and Leo’s expressions she saw that they understood.

If she was reading the prophecy right, either Leo or Jason would defeat Gaea. The other one would die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bum bum bum buh! Will they find out what happens?


	45. Since When Does Festus Have a Body? (Piper XLV)

LEO STARED AT THE DAGGER. “Okay… so I don’t like your idea as much as I thought. You think one of us defeats Gaea and the other one dies? Or maybe one of us dies while defeating her? Or—”

“Leo,” Jason said suddenly. “I didn’t die fighting Gaea.”

Leo shot Jason a weird look. “Uh, yeah, we haven’t fought her yet.”

“No, I mean, I died,” Jason said. “In the future. But I didn’t die fighting Gaea.”

“Oh dear gods,” Alex muttered. “I will confirm that Jason died, but not fighting Gaea. That happened some time after Gaea was defeated. And when we left our own time, Leo was still alive. Stop thinking about the stupid prophecy.”

“Did we meet?” Leo squinted. “Like, did we meet in the future?”

“Mmh, yeah,” Magnus said. “Annabeth came by to see how the Chase Space was going. She and Percy were coming from California though, so you actually picked them up on Festus and flew them over.”

Piper frowned. Festus didn’t have a body anymore. Maybe Magnus meant Leo had given Percy and Annabeth a ride on the  _ Argo II. _

_ “Leo!” Piper gasped for breath. “We only have a few seconds. My charmspeak won’t—” _

_ “I know!” Leo looked like he was made of fire. Flames rippled beneath his skin, illuminating his skull. Festus steamed and glowed, his claws burning through Jason’s shirt. “I can’t contain the fire much longer. I’ll vaporize her. Don’t worry. But you guys need to leave.” _

_ “No!” Jason said. “We have to stay with you. Piper’s got the cure. Leo, you can’t—” _

_ “Hey.” Leo grinned, his teeth like molten silver ingots. “I told you I had a plan. When are you going to trust me? And by the way—I love you guys.” _

_ Festus’s claw opened, and Jason and Piper fell. _

_ Piper cried and screamed as she and Jason fell down, down, down. Away from Leo. Towards the Earth. _

_ A golden explosion rocked the sky. _

Piper blinked out of the memory.

“Look, Alex is right,” Jason was saying. “We’ll drive ourselves crazy thinking about it. A prophecy is a prophecy and there’s not much we can do about that.”

“I hope I’m wrong,” Piper said cautiously. “But the whole quest started with us finding Hera and waking that giant king Porphyrion. I have a feeling the war will end with us too. For better or worse.”

“Us,” Jason echoed.

“Well, us is my favorite people,” Leo said.

Piper managed a smile. She really did love these guys. She wished she could use her charmspeak on the Fates, describe a happy ending and force them to make it come true. Unfortunately, it was hard to imagine a happy ending with all the dark thoughts in her head. She worried that the giant Clytius had been put in their path to eliminate Leo as a threat. If so, that meant Gaea would also try to eliminate Jason. Without storm or fire, their quest couldn’t succeed.

And this wintry weather bothered her too… She felt certain it was being caused by something more than just Diocletian’s scepter. And Nico’s remarks made her sure that something was going on. The cold wind, the mix of ice and rain seemed actively hostile and somehow familiar.  That smell in the air, the thick smell of…

Piper should have understood what was happening sooner, but she’d spent most of her life in southern California with no major changes of season. She hadn’t grown up with that smell… the smell of impending snow.

Every muscle in her body tensed. “Leo, sound the alarm.”

Piper hadn’t realized she was charmspeaking, but Leo immediately dropped his screwdriver and punched the alarm button. He frowned when nothing happened.

“Uh, it’s disconnected,” he remembered. “Festus is shut down. Gimme a minute to get the system back online.”

“We don’t have a minute! Fires—we need vials of Greek fire. Jason, call the winds. Warm, southerly winds.”

“Wait, what?” Jason stared at her in confusion. “Piper, what’s wrong?”

“Magnus, think warmth and summer,” Piper commanded, snatching her dagger. “It’s her! She’s back! We have to—”

Before she could finish, the boat listed to port. The temperature dropped so fast that the sails crackled with ice. The bronze shields along the rails popped like over-pressurized soda cans. Jason drew his sword, but it was too late. A wave of ice particles swept over him, coating him like a glazed doughnut and freezing him in place. Under a layer of ice, his eyes were wide with amazement.

“Leo! Flames! Now!” Piper yelled.

Leo’s right hand blazed, but the wind swirled around him and doused the fire. Leo clutched his Archimedes sphere as a funnel cloud of sleet lifted him off his feet.

“Hey!” he yelled. “Hey! Let me go!”

Piper ran towards him, but a voice in the storm said, “Oh, yes, Leo Valdez. I will let you go permanently.”

Leo shot skywards, like he’d been launched from a catapult. He disappeared into the clouds.

“No!” Piper raised her knife, but there was nothing to attack.

Alex whipped out her garrote, but like Jason, she was swept over in a wave of ice.

Magnus was surrounded by a soft golden glow of warmth, but the ice and snow seemed to be concentrating all their energy on attacking the warmth.

Piper looked desperately at the stairwell, hoping to see her friends charging to the rescue, but a block of ice had sealed the hatch. The whole lower deck might have been frozen solid.

She needed a better weapon to fight with—something more than her voice, a stupid fortune-telling dagger and a cornucopia that shot ham and fresh fruit. She wondered whether she could make it to the ballista.

Then her enemies appeared, and she realized that no weapon would be enough.

Standing amidships was a girl in a flowing dress of white silk, her mane of black hair pinned back with a circlet of diamonds. Her eyes were the color of coffee, but without the warmth. Behind her stood her brothers—two young men with purple-feathered wings, stark white hair and jagged swords of Celestial bronze.

“So good to see you again, _ma chère_ ,” said Khione, the goddess of snow. “It’s time we had a very cold reunion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Piper's not alone. Magnus is still there. Wonder how that will change the confrontation...


	46. Magnus Gives Me a Pep Talk (Piper XLVI)

PIPER DIDN’T PLAN TO SHOOT BLUEBERRY MUFFINS. The cornucopia must have sensed her distress and thought she and her visitors could use some warm baked goods. Half a dozen steamy muffins flew from the horn of plenty like buckshot. It wasn’t the most effective opening attack. Khione simply leaned to one side. Most of the muffins sailed past her over the rail. Her brothers, the Boreads, each caught one and began to eat.

“Muffins,” said the bigger one. Cal, Piper remembered: short for Calais. He was dressed exactly as he had been in Quebec—in cleats, sweatpants and a red hockey jersey—and had two black eyes and several broken teeth. “Muffins are good.”

“Ah, merci,” said the scrawny brother—Zethes, she recalled—who stood on the catapult platform, his purple wings spread. His white hair was still feathered in a horrible Disco Age mullet. The collar of his silk shirt stuck out over his breastplate. His chartreuse polyester trousers were grotesquely tight, and his acne had only got worse. Despite that, he wriggled his eyebrows and smiled like he was the demigod of pickup artists.

“I knew the pretty girl would miss me.” He spoke Québécois French, which Piper translated effortlessly. Thanks to her mom, Aphrodite, the language of love was hardwired into her, though she didn’t want to speak it with Zethes.

“What are you doing?” Piper demanded. Then, in charmspeak: “Let my friends go.”

Zethes blinked. “We should let your friends go.”

“Yes,” Cal agreed.

“No, you idiots!” Khione snapped. “She is charmspeaking. Use your wits.”

“Wits…” Cal frowned as if he wasn’t sure what wits were. “Muffins are better.”

He stuffed the whole thing in his mouth and began to chew.

Zethes picked a blueberry off the top of his and nibbled it delicately. “Ah, my beautiful Piper… so long I have waited to see you again. Sadly, my sister is right. We cannot let your friends go. In fact we must take them to Quebec, where they shall be laughed at eternally. I am so sorry, but these are our orders.”

“Orders…?”

Ever since last winter, Piper had expected Khione to show her frosty face sooner or later. When they’d defeated her at the Wolf House in Sonoma, the snow goddess had vowed revenge. But why were Zethes and Cal here? In Quebec, the Boreads had seemed almost friendly—at least compared to their sub-zero sister.

“Guys, listen,” Piper said. “Your sister disobeyed Boreas. She’s working with the giants, trying to raise Gaea. She’s planning to take over your father’s throne.”

Khione laughed, soft and cold. “Dear Piper McLean. You would manipulate my weak-willed brothers with your charms, like a true daughter of the love goddess. Such a skilful liar.”

“Liar?” Piper cried. “You tried to kill us! Zethes, she’s working for Gaea!”

Zethes winced. “Alas, beautiful girl. We all are working for Gaea now. I fear these orders are from our father, Boreas himself.”

“What?” Piper didn’t want to believe it, but Khione’s smug smile told her it was true.

“At last my father saw the wisdom of my counsel,” Khione purred, “or at least he did before his Roman side began warring with his Greek side. I fear he is quite incapacitated now, but he left me in charge. He has ordered that the forces of the North Wind be used in the service of King Porphyrion and of course… the Earth Mother.”

Piper gulped. “How are you even here?” She gestured at the ice all over the ship. “It’s summer!”

Khione shrugged. “Our powers grow. The rules of nature are turned upside down. Once the Earth Mother wakes, we shall remake the world as we choose!”

“With hockey,” Cal said, his mouth still full. “And pizza. And muffins.”

“Yes, yes,” Khione sneered. “I had to promise a few things to the big simpleton. And to Zethes—”

“Oh, my needs are simple.” Zethes slicked back his hair and winked at Piper. “I should have kept you at our palace when we first met, my dear Piper. But soon we will go there again, together, and I shall romance you most incredibly.”

“I’m sorry, who are they?” Magnus interrupted. “And why are they interested in human trafficking? I know who Snow Queen is from last December, but those two are newbies.”

Khione’s nostrils flared. “Magnus Chase,” she spat. “You’re still thawed out.”

“I’m a lot more resistant to the cold than you would think,” Magnus said. But his body was shaking and his teeth chattered. Piper knew that Magnus had a warming effect on Khione’s ice magic, but Khione seemed to be overpowering that effect and managing to make Magnus shiver.

“For now,” Khione said sweetly. She waved a hand and Magnus’s lips and fingertips started turning blue.

“Let Jason and Alex go!” Piper ordered.

She put all her power into the words, and Zethes obeyed. He snapped his fingers. Jason and Alex instantly defrosted. They crumpled to the floor, gasping and steaming, but at least they were alive.

“You imbecile!” Khione thrust out her hand, and the two refroze, now flat on the deck like bearskin rugs. She wheeled on Zethes. “If you wish the girl as your prize, you must prove you can control her. Not the other way around!”

“Yes, of course.” Zethes looked chagrined.

“As for Jason Grace…” Khione’s brown eyes gleamed. “He and the rest of your friends will join our court of ice statues in Quebec. Jason will grace my throne room.”

“Clever,” Piper muttered. “Take you all day to think up that line?”

At least she knew Jason and Alex were still alive, which made Piper a little less panicky. The deep freeze could be reversed. That meant her other friends were probably still alive below deck. She just needed a plan to free them.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t Annabeth. She wasn’t so good at devising plans on the fly. She needed time to think. Magnus bought her some time.

“What about Alex and I?” he asked, teeth chattering.

Khione snorted. “What about you? You are not even Greek, nor are you Roman. Gaea has no use for you. She does not care if you live or die. Besides, you are already spoken for. He wants you two alive.”

“He?” Magnus repeated. “He who?”

“Mommy dearest, of course!” Khione said, gesturing to Alex. “He wants to talk to his child again, and you, Magnus Chase, have something Loki has been looking for.”

Magnus trembled from either rage or cold or both. Piper wasn’t sure.

“What about Leo?” she blurted. “Where did you send him?”

The snow goddess stepped lightly around Jason, examining him as if he were sidewalk art.

“Leo Valdez deserved a special punishment,” she said. “I have sent him to a place from which he can never return.”

Piper couldn’t breathe. Poor Leo. The idea of never seeing him again almost destroyed her. Khione must’ve seen it in her face.

“Alas, my dear Piper!” She smiled in triumph. “But it is for the best. Leo could not be tolerated, even as an ice statue… not after he insulted me. The fool refused to rule at my side! And his power over fire…” She shook her head. “He could not be allowed to reach the House of Hades. I’m afraid Lord Clytius likes fire even less than I do.”

Piper gripped her dagger.

_ Fire, _ she thought.  _ Thanks for reminding me, you witch. _

She scanned the deck. How to make fire? A box of Greek fire vials was secured by the forward ballista, but that was too far away. Even if she made it without getting frozen, Greek fire would burn everything, including the ship and all her friends. There had to be another way. Her eyes strayed to the prow.

_ Oh. _

Festus the figurehead could blow some serious flames. Unfortunately, Leo had switched him off. Piper had no idea how to reactivate him. She would never have time to figure out the right controls at the ship’s console. She had vague memories of Leo tinkering around inside the dragon’s bronze skull, mumbling about a control disk, but even if Piper could make it to the prow she would have no idea what she was doing.

Still, some instinct told her Festus was her best chance, if only she could figure out how to convince her captors to let her get close enough…

“Well!” Khione interrupted her thoughts. “I fear our time together is at a close. Zethes, if you would—”

“Wait!” Piper said.

A simple command, and it worked. The Boreads and Khione frowned at her, waiting.

Piper was fairly sure she could control the brothers with charmspeak, but Khione was a problem. Charmspeak worked poorly if the person wasn’t attracted to you. It worked poorly on a powerful being like a god. And it worked poorly when your victim knew about charmspeak and was actively on guard against it. All of the above applied to Khione.

What would Annabeth do?

_ Delay, _ Piper thought. _ When in doubt, talk some more. _

“You’re afraid of my friends,” she said. “So why not just kill them?”

Khione laughed. “You are not a god, or you would understand. Death is so short, so… unsatisfying. Your puny mortal souls flit off to the Underworld, and what happens then? The best I can hope for is that you go to the Fields of Punishment or Asphodel, but you demigods are insufferably noble. More likely you will go to Elysium—or get reborn in a new life. Why would I want to reward your friends that way? Why… when I can punish them eternally?”

“And me?” Piper hated to ask. “Why am I still alive and unfrozen?”

Khione glanced at her brothers with annoyance. “Zethes has claimed you, for one thing.”

“I kiss magnificently,” Zethes promised. “You will see, beautiful one.”

The idea made Piper’s stomach churn.

“I don’t think Piper consents to that,” Magnus said. “And consent is pretty important.”

Khione’s eyes flashed. She waved her hand and frost started spreading across Magnus. “You’re getting annoying, Magnus Chase. Loki won’t be happy, but he is quite capable of prying that sword off your cold, dead body.” She turned back to Piper. “But that is not the only reason,” she said. “It is because I hate you, Piper. Deeply and truly. Without you, Jason would have stayed with me in Quebec.”

“Delusional, much?”

Khione’s eyes turned as hard as the diamonds in her circlet. “You are a meddler, the daughter of a useless goddess. What can you do alone? Nothing. Of all the seven demigods, you have no purpose, no power. I wish you to stay on this ship, adrift and helpless, while Gaea rises and the world ends. And just to be sure you are well out of the way…” She gestured to Zethes, who plucked something from the air—a frozen sphere the size of a softball, covered in icy spikes.

“A bomb,” Zethes explained, “especially for you, my love.”

“Bombs!” Cal laughed. “A good day! Bombs and muffins!”

“Uh…” Piper lowered her dagger, which seemed even more useless than usual. “Flowers would’ve been fine.”

“Oh, it will not kill the pretty girl.” Zethes frowned. “Well… I am fairly sure of this. But when the fragile container cracks, in… ah, roughly not very long… it will unleash the full force of the northern winds. This ship will be blown very far off course. Very, very far.”

“Indeed.” Khione’s voice prickled with false sympathy. “We will take your friends for our statue collection, then unleash the winds and bid you goodbye! You can watch the end of the world from… well, the end of the world! Perhaps you can charmspeak the fish, and feed yourself with your silly cornucopia. You can pace the deck of this empty ship and watch our victory in the blade of your dagger. When Gaea has arisen and the world you knew is dead, then Zethes can come back and retrieve you for his bride. What will you do to stop us, Piper? A hero? Ha! You are a joke.”

Her words stung like sleet, mostly because Piper had had the same thoughts herself. What could she do? How could she save her friends with what she had?

“Let me…” Magnus coughed. He cleared his throat and stood straight without shivering despite the cold. “Let me tell you about Piper McLean.”

“Excuse me?” Khione said.

“I first saw Piper cornered in a cave, surrounded by Lycaon’s wolves,” Magnus said.

Piper looked at him. If this was supposed to be his idea of helping, it wasn’t very good.

“They had no silver to defeat them, but that didn’t matter,” Magnus continued. “She stood by her friends and refused to go down without a fight.”

A warm feeling blossomed in her chest. Khione wanted Piper to break. To fly into a rage and get herself killed. She wanted entertainment. Magnus wanted Piper to fight. But not the rage Khione wanted.

“In Kansas,” Magnus said loudly, “Piper forced the eidolons to swear never to possess any demigod ever again and they obeyed her. She outsmarted Hercules and came up with a plan that got us past his pillars.”

Piper’s spine turned to steel. She remembered the girls who used to make fun of her at the Wilderness School. She remembered Drew, the cruel daughter of Aphrodite; and Medea, who had charmed Jason and Leo in Chicago; and Jane, her dad’s old assistant, who had always treated her like a useless brat. All her life, Piper had been looked down upon, told she was useless.

Magnus was telling her the opposite.

“Piper saved Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, and myself from drowning in Rome,” Magnus shouted. “Because of her, we were able to save Nico di Angelo and defeat the giants Ephialtes and Otis. You think Piper is useless? You think she’s no hero? You’re wrong!”

_ It has never been true, _ another voice whispered—a voice that sounded like her mother’s.  _ Each of them berated you because they feared you and envied you. So does Khione. Use that! _

Piper didn’t feel like it, but she managed a laugh. She tried it again, and the laughter came more easily. Soon she was doubled over, giggling and snorting.

Calais joined in, until Zethes elbowed him.

Khione’s smile wavered. “What? What is so funny? That pathetic little speech? What’s the phrase? Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?”

“Words don’t seem to be hurting anyone the way I want them to lately,” Magnus muttered.

“Shut up!” Khione screeched.

Magnus stumbled to the floor. He curled up on himself, shivering and trying to stay warm.

“I have doomed you all!” Khione yelled.

“Doomed me!” Piper laughed again. “Oh, gods… sorry.” She took a shaky breath and tried to stop giggling. “Oh, boy… okay. You really think I’m powerless? You really think I’m useless? After everything Magnus said?”

“Words are pretty,” Khione said. “Actions are stronger. It is well and good to  _ say _ what you have done, but can you really repeat that? Can you really hold up to what the Vanir spawn says? I think not.”

“Gods of Olympus, your brain must have freezer burn,” Piper said. “You don’t know my secret, do you?”

Khione’s eyes narrowed. “You have no secret,” she said. “You are lying.”

“Okay, whatever,” Piper said. “Yeah, go ahead and take my friends. Leave me here… useless.” She snorted. “Yeah. Gaea will be really pleased with you.”

Snow swirled around the goddess. Zethes and Calais glanced at each other nervously.

“Sister,” Zethes said, “if she really has some secret—”

“Pizza?” Cal speculated. “Hockey?”

“—then we must know,” Zethes continued.

Khione obviously didn’t buy it. Piper tried to keep a straight face, but she made her eyes dance with mischief and humor.

_ Go ahead,  _ she dared.  _ Call my bluff. _

“What secret?” Khione demanded. “Reveal it to us!”

Piper shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She pointed casually towards the prow. “Follow me, ice people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed Jessica to Jane because... well, Piper's dad's assistant was named Jane in the Lost Hero, so... I assume that's her name. Not Jessica.
> 
> Hope you guys liked the Magnus addition to this chapter! I saw an opportunity for that and I couldn't resist.


	47. Wake Up, Festus, We Really Need You (Piper XLVII)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I am making a reference to Wake Up, Jeff! If there's one thing I remember about my early years watching the Wiggles, it's this song.

SHE PUSHED BETWEEN THE BOREADS, which was like walking through a meat freezer. The air around them was so cold it burned her face. She felt like she was breathing pure snow.

Piper tried not to look down at Jason’s frozen body as she passed or Magnus laying on the ground slowly turning blue. She tried not to think about her friends below, or Leo shot into the sky to a place of no return. She definitely tried not to think about the Boreads and the snow goddess, who were following her.

She fixed her eyes on the figurehead.

The ship rocked under her feet. A single gust of summer air made it through the chill, and Piper breathed it in, taking it as a good omen. It was still summer out there. Khione and her brothers did not belong here.

Piper knew she couldn’t win a straight fight against Khione and two winged guys with swords. She wasn’t as clever as Annabeth, or as good at problem solving as Leo. But she did have power. And she intended to use it.

Last night, during her talk with Hazel, Piper had realized that the secret of charmspeak was a lot like using the Mist. In the past, Piper had had a lot of trouble making her charms work, because she always ordered her enemies do what she wanted. She would yell  _ Don’t kill us _ when the monster’s fondest wish was to kill them. She would put all her power into her voice and hope it was enough to overwhelm her enemy’s will.

Sometimes it worked, but it was exhausting and unreliable. Aphrodite wasn’t about head-on confrontation. Aphrodite was about subtlety and guile and charm. Piper decided she shouldn’t focus on making people do what she wanted. She needed to push them to do the things they wanted.

A great theory, if she could make it work…

She stopped at the foremast and faced Khione. “Wow, I just realized why you hate us so much,” she said, filling her voice with pity. “We humiliated you pretty badly in Sonoma.”

Khione’s eyes glinted like iced espresso. She shot an uneasy look at her brothers.

Piper laughed. “Oh, you didn’t tell them!” she guessed. “I don’t blame you. You had a giant king on your side, plus an army of wolves and Earthborn, and you still couldn’t beat us.”

“Silence!” the goddess hissed.

The air turned misty. Piper felt frost gathering on her eyebrows and freezing her ear canals, but she feigned a smile.

“Whatever.” She winked at Zethes. “But it was pretty funny.”

“The beautiful girl must be lying,” Zethes said. “Khione was not beaten at the Wolf House. She said it was a… ah, what is the term? A tactical retreat.”

“Treats?” Cal asked. “Treats are good.”

Piper pushed the big guy’s chest playfully. “No, Cal. He means that your sister ran away.”

“I did not!” Khione shrieked.

“What did Hera call you?” Piper mused. “Right—a D-list goddess!”

She burst out laughing again, and her amusement was so genuine that Zethes and Cal started laughing, too.

“That is _très bon_!” Zethes said. “A D-list goddess. Ha!”

“Ha!” Cal said. “Sister ran away! Ha!”

Khione’s white dress began to steam. Ice formed over Zethes’s and Cal’s mouths, plugging them up.

“Show us this secret of yours, Piper McLean,” Khione growled. “Then pray I leave you on this ship intact. If you are toying with us, I will show you the horrors of frostbite. I doubt Zethes will still want you if you have no fingers or toes… perhaps no nose or ears.”

Zethes and Cal spat the ice plugs out of their mouths.

“The pretty girl would look less pretty without a nose,” Zethes admitted.

Piper had seen pictures of frostbite victims. The threat terrified her, but she didn’t let it show.

“Come on, then.” She led the way to the prow, humming one of her dad’s favourite songs—”Summertime”.

When she got to the figurehead, she put her hand on Festus’s neck. His bronze scales were cold. There was no hum of machinery. His ruby eyes were dull and dark.

“You remember our dragon?” Piper asked.

Khione scoffed. “This cannot be your secret. The dragon is broken. Its fire is gone.”

“Well, yes…” Piper stroked the dragon’s snout.

She didn’t have Leo’s power to make gears turn or circuits spark. She couldn’t sense anything about the workings of a machine. All she could do was speak her heart and tell the dragon what he most wanted to hear. “But Festus is more than a machine. He’s a living creature.”

“Ridiculous,” the goddess spat. “Zethes, Cal—gather the frozen demigods from below. Then we shall break open the sphere of winds.”

“You could do that, boys,” Piper agreed. “But then you wouldn’t see Khione humiliated. I know you’d like that.”

The Boreads hesitated.

“Hockey?” Cal asked.

“Almost as good,” Piper promised. “You fought at the side of Jason and the Argonauts, didn’t you? On a ship like this, the first  _ Argo _ .”

“Yes,” Zethes agreed. “ _ The Argo.  _ Much like this, but we did not have a dragon.”

“Don’t listen to her!” Khione snapped.

Piper felt ice forming on her lips.

“You could shut me up,” she said quickly. “But you want to know my secret power—how I will destroy you, and Gaea, and the giants.”

Hatred seethed in Khione’s eyes, but she withheld her frost.

“You—have—no—power,” she insisted.

“Spoken like a D-list goddess,” Piper said. “One who never gets taken seriously, who always wants more power.” She turned to Festus and ran her hand behind his metal ears. “You’re a good friend, Festus. No one can truly deactivate you. You’re more than a machine. Khione doesn’t understand that.” She turned to the Boreads. “She doesn’t value you, either, you know. She thinks she can boss you around because you’re demigods, not full-fledged gods. She doesn’t understand that you’re a powerful team.”

“A team,” Cal grunted. “Like the Ca-na-di-ens.”

He had to struggle with the word since it was more than two syllables. He grinned and looked very pleased with himself.

“Exactly,” Piper said. “Just like a hockey team. The whole is greater than the parts. It’s the sum of  _ all _ it’s parts.”

“Like a pizza,” Cal added.

Piper laughed. “You are smart, Cal! Even I underestimated you.”

“Wait, now,” Zethes protested. “I am smart also. And good-looking.”

“Very smart,” Piper agreed, ignoring the good-looking part. “So put down the wind bomb and watch Khione get humiliated.”

Zethes grinned. He crouched and rolled the ice sphere across the deck.

“You fool!” Khione yelled.

Before the goddess could go after the sphere, Piper cried, “Our secret weapon, Khione! We’re not just a bunch of demigods. We’re a team. Just like Festus isn’t only a collection of parts. He’s alive. He’s my friend. And when his friends are in trouble, especially Leo, he can  _ wake up on his own.” _ She willed all her confidence into her voice—all her love for the metal dragon and everything he’d done for them.

The rational part of her knew this was hopeless.  _ How could you start a machine with emotions? _ But Aphrodite wasn’t rational. She ruled through emotions. She was the oldest and most primordial of the Olympians, born from the blood of Ouranos churning in the sea. Her power was more ancient than that of Hephaestus or Athena or even Zeus.

For a terrible moment, nothing happened. Khione glared at her. The Boreads began to come out of their daze, looking disappointed.

“Never mind our plan,” Khione snarled. “Kill her!”

As the Boreads raised their swords, the dragon’s metal skin grew warm under Piper’s hand. She dived out of the way, tackling the snow goddess, as Festus turned his head one hundred and eighty degrees and blasted the Boreads, vaporizing them on the spot. For some reason, Zethes’s sword was spared. It clunked to the deck, still steaming.

Piper scrambled to her feet. She spotted the sphere of winds at the base of the foremast. She ran for it, but before she could get close Khione materialized in front of her in a swirl of frost. Her skin glowed bright enough to cause snow blindness.

“You miserable girl,” she hissed. “You think you can defeat me—a goddess?”

At Piper’s back, Festus roared and blew steam, but Piper knew he couldn’t breathe fire again without hitting her, too. About twenty feet behind the goddess, the ice sphere began to crack and hiss.

Piper was out of time for subtlety. She yelled and raised her dagger, charging the goddess. Khione grabbed her wrist. Ice spread over Piper’s arm. The blade of Katoptris turned white. The goddess’s face was only six inches from hers. Khione smiled, knowing she had won.

“A child of Aphrodite,” she chided. “You are nothing.”

Festus creaked again. Piper could swear he was trying to shout encouragement.

Suddenly her chest grew warm—not with anger or fear but with love for that dragon; and Jason, who was depending on her; and her friends trapped below; and Leo, who was lost and would need her help; and Magnus, who had shouted in Khione’s face about all the great things Piper had done so far.

Maybe love was no match for ice… but Piper had used it to wake a metal dragon. Mortals did superhuman feats in the name of love all the time. Mothers lifted cars to save their children. And Piper was more than just mortal. She was a demigod. A hero.

The ice melted on her blade. Her arm steamed under Khione’s grip.

“Still underestimating me,” Piper told the goddess. “You really need to work on that.”

Khione’s smug expression faltered as Piper drove her dagger straight down.

The blade touched Khione’s chest, and the goddess exploded in a miniature blizzard. Piper collapsed, dazed from the cold. She heard Festus clacking and whirring, the reactivated alarm bells ringing.

_ The bomb. _

Piper struggled to rise. The sphere was ten feet away, hissing and spinning as the winds inside began to stir.

Piper dived for it.

Her fingers closed around the bomb just as the ice shattered and the winds exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand they're blown off course. But go, Piper!


	48. I Really Wish There Was Another Way (Percy XLVIII)

IF THEY NEVER LEFT TARTARUS, Percy hoped he and Annabeth could safely stay in Damasen’s hut. Killing a drakon for food everyday didn’t sound like a bad trade off for safe living in Tartarus.

Of course, he’d still prefer New Rome over Tartarus.

He and Annabeth and Bob stumbled along in the darkness, the air thick and cold, the ground alternating patches of pointy rocks and pools of muck. The terrain seemed to be designed so that Percy could never let his guard down. Even walking ten feet was exhausting.

Percy had started out from the giant’s hut feeling strong again, his head clear, his belly full of drakon jerky from their packs of provisions. Now his legs were sore. Every muscle ached. He pulled a makeshift tunic of drakon leather over his shredded T-shirt, but it did nothing to keep out the chill. His focus narrowed to the ground in front of him. Nothing existed except for that and Annabeth at his side.

Whenever he felt like giving up, plopping himself down, and dying (which was, like, every ten minutes), he reached over and took her hand, just to remember there was warmth in the world. He thought about their friends who were on their way to Epirus right now. He thought about the life he and Annabeth were desperately fighting to get back. All this was enough to keep him going.

He wondered what had happened after they left Damasen’s hut. He hadn’t heard their pursuers in hours, but he could sense their hatred… especially Polybotes’s. That giant was back there somewhere, following, pushing them deeper into Tartarus.

Percy tried to think of good things to keep his spirits up—the lake at Camp Half-Blood, the time he’d kissed Annabeth underwater, the time they decided to go to New Rome University, the time Annabeth wouldn’t take no for an answer and helped him bear the weight of the sky. He tried to remember what it was like when the two of them were getting ready for the college year to start and he told himself that they still had the chance to make that happen again.

But the pit was cold and dark and sapping everything he had. All the good felt like fleeting dreams. The deeper they travelled, the harder it became to stay focused.

“This place is worse than the River Cocytus,” he muttered.

“Yes,” Bob called back happily. “Much worse! It means we are close.”

Percy stiffened. Annabeth took his hand and squeezed. She seemed to be telling him  _ It’s okay. I trust you, I believe in you, I love you. _

Akhlys was something Percy tried his hardest to forget. The goddess he had almost drowned with her own tears. It had terrified Annabeth and if he was being honest, it terrified himself too. It had proven exactly how far Percy was willing to go for Annabeth. Something that was reassuring and scary at the same time.

“Bob, is there no other way?” Percy asked hesitantly. He noticed Small Bob the cat had hidden himself in Bob’s coveralls again, which reinforced Percy’s opinion that the kitten was the smartest one in their group.

Annabeth laced her fingers through his. In the light of his bronze sword, her face was beautiful. “We’re together,” she reminded him. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

“Okay,” he said. Or he thought he said it. He wasn’t really sure if he made any noise at all.

“When we get out of here, we’re going on a nice date,” Annabeth said.

Percy managed a smile. “Like Paris?”

Annabeth smiled. “Yeah, like Paris.”

Months ago, before Percy got amnesia, they’d had dinner in Paris one night, compliments of Hermes. It had been very much the same as the date in the first timeline, but neither of them complained. They both enjoyed visiting the city again.

The darkness dispersed with a massive sigh, like the last breath of a dying god. In front of them was a clearing—a barren field of dust and stones. In the centre, about twenty yards away, knelt the gruesome figure of a woman, her clothes tattered, her limbs emaciated, her skin leathery green. Her head was bent as she sobbed quietly, and the sound shattered all Percy’s hopes.

He realized that life was pointless. His struggles were for nothing. This woman cried as if mourning the death of the entire world.

“We’re here,” Bob announced. “Akhlys can help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet Akhlys...


	49. Annabeth Convinces a Goddess to Hide Us (Percy XLIX)

PERCY WOULD REALLY RATHER BE ANYWHERE ELSE. Nevertheless, Bob trudged forward and Percy felt obliged to follow. If nothing else, this area was less dark—not exactly light, but with more of a soupy white fog. And it was the way they had to go.

“Akhlys!” Bob called.

The creature raised her head, and Percy’s stomach screamed, _Help me!_

Her body was bad enough. She looked like the victim of a famine—limbs like sticks, swollen knees and knobby elbows, rags for clothes, broken fingernails and toenails. Dust was caked on her skin and piled on her shoulders as if she’d taken a shower at the bottom of an hourglass. Her face was utter desolation. Her eyes were sunken and rheumy, pouring out tears. Her nose dripped like a waterfall. Her stringy grey hair was matted to her skull in greasy tufts, and her cheeks were raked and bleeding as if she’d been clawing herself.

Percy couldn’t stand to meet her eyes, so he lowered his gaze. Across her knees lay an ancient shield—a battered circle of wood and bronze, painted with the likeness of Akhlys herself holding a shield, so the image seemed to go on forever, smaller and smaller.

“Hercules’s shield,” Percy muttered. “Dude is everywhere.”

“Hercules,” the old hag wailed. “He painted me on its surface, so his enemies would see me in their final moments—the goddess of misery.” She coughed so hard it made Percy’s chest hurt. “As if Hercules knew true misery. It’s not even a good likeness!”

Percy gulped. When he and his friends had encountered Hercules at the Straits of Gibraltar, it hadn’t gone well. The exchange had involved a lot of yelling, death threats and high-velocity pineapples. It was an unfortunate testament to his crazy life that high-velocity pineapples weren't the strangest thing that had happened around him.

“What’s his shield doing here?” Percy asked. He genuinely didn’t remember if Akhlys had told them the first time, and at this point it was all he could do to stall the inevitable.

The goddess stared at him with her wet milky eyes. Her cheeks dripped blood, making red polka dots on her tattered dress. “He doesn’t need it anymore, does he? It came here when his mortal body was burned. A reminder, I suppose, that no shield is sufficient. In the end, misery overtakes all of you. Even Hercules.”

Percy inched closer to Annabeth. “Bob,” he said, “we shouldn’t have come here.”

From somewhere inside Bob’s uniform, the skeleton kitten mewled in agreement.

The Titan shifted and winced as if Small Bob was clawing his armpit. “Akhlys controls the Death Mist,” he insisted. “She can hide you.”

“Hide them?” Akhlys made a gurgling sound. She was either laughing or choking to death. “Why would I do that?”

“They must reach the Doors of Death,” Bob said. “To return to the mortal world.”

“Impossible!” Akhlys said. “The armies of Tartarus will find you. They will kill you.”

Annabeth turned the blade of her drakon-bone sword, which Percy had to admit made her look pretty intimidating and hot in a ‘Barbarian Princess’ kind of way. “So I guess your Death Mist is pretty useless, then,” she said.

The goddess bared her broken yellow teeth. “Useless? Who are you?”

“A daughter of Athena.” Annabeth’s voice sounded brave—though how she did it, Percy didn’t know. “I didn’t walk halfway across Tartarus to be told what’s impossible by some minor goddess.”

The dust quivered at their feet. Fog swirled around them with a sound like agonized wailing.

“Minor goddess?” Akhlys’s gnarled fingernails dug into Hercules’s shield, gouging the metal. “I was old before the Titans were born, you ignorant girl. I was old when Gaea first woke. Misery is eternal. Existence is misery. I was born of the eldest ones—of Chaos and Night. I was—”

“Yes, yes,” Annabeth said. “Sadness and misery, blah blah blah. But you still don’t have enough power to hide two demigods with your Death Mist. Like I said: useless.”

“Yeah,” Percy agreed, praying his voice didn’t tremble. “Bob brought us all this way because he thought you could help. But I guess you’re too busy staring at that shield and crying. I can’t blame you. It looks just like you.”

Akhlys wailed and glared at the Titan. “Why did you inflict these annoying children on me?”

Bob made a sound somewhere between a rumble and a whimper. “I thought—I thought—”

“The Death Mist is not for helping!” Akhlys shrieked. “It shrouds mortals in misery as their souls pass into the Underworld. It is the very breath of Tartarus, of death, of despair!”

“Awesome,” Percy said. “Could we get two orders of that to go?”

He knew he shouldn’t have said _help._ Curse all this misery and darkness clouding his thoughts and memories.

Akhlys hissed. “Ask me for a more sensible gift. I am also the goddess of poisons. I could give you death—thousands of ways to die less painful than the one you have chosen by marching into the heart of the pit.”

Around the goddess, flowers bloomed in the dust—dark purple, orange and red blossoms that smelled sickly sweet. Percy’s head swam.

“Nightshade,” Akhlys offered. “Hemlock. Belladonna, henbane or strychnine. I can dissolve your innards, boil your blood.”

Percy’s stomach clenched. He tried not to recoil and show his fear.

“Wait,” Annabeth said. “If you hide us in your Death Mist, think how great it will be for you. We’re going to seal the Doors of Death. That’s going to cause a lot of wailing and moaning. Think of all the suffering you’ll help us bring to the monsters down here.”

Akhlys considered. “I enjoy suffering. Wailing is also good.”

“So do it,” Annabeth said. “Give us the Death Mist.”

Akhlys struggled to her feet. The shield of Hercules rolled away and wobbled to a stop in a patch of poison flowers.

“It is not so simple,” the goddess said. “The Death Mist comes at the moment you are closest to your end. Your eyes will be clouded only then. The world will fade.”

Percy’s mouth felt dry. “But… we’ll be shrouded from the monsters?”

“Oh, yes,” Akhlys said. “If you survive the process, you will be able to pass unnoticed among the armies of Tartarus. It is hopeless, of course, but if you are determined, then come. I will show you the way.” The goddess shuffled towards the gloom.

Percy turned to look at Bob, but the Titan was gone.

“Hey!” Percy yelled to Akhlys. “Where’s our friend?”

“He cannot take this path,” the goddess called back. “He is not mortal. Come, little fools. Come, experience the Death Mist.”

Annabeth exhaled and grabbed his hand. “Hey. You’re okay. I love you no matter what.”

Percy squeezed her hand. “I know. Let’s go get some Death Mist.”

They followed the goddess’s dusty footprints through the poison flowers, deeper into the fog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something, something, explanation, anecdote, something.
> 
> It's hard to say anything when the chapters are so short. Also I have zero motivation. It's soooooo close to the end of the semester. I literally only have to get through the rest of this week and part of next week.
> 
> Well, look at that. I did say something.


	50. We Get the Death Mist (Percy L)

PERCY HATED THE PLAN. Following an emaciated corpse lady with serious self-esteem issues towards the Mansion of Night was not his idea of a good idea. If Bob and Damasen didn’t need to escape through the Doors of Death, Percy would have been content to just go charging towards the Doors without any disguise. Unfortunately, nice things like that were hard to come by in the life of a demigod.

As they struggled across the dusty plain, the fog became so thick that Percy had to resist the urge to swat it away with his hands. The only reason he was able to follow Akhlys’s path was because poisonous plants sprang up wherever she walked.

If they were still on the body of Tartarus, Percy figured they must be on the bottom of his foot—a rough, calloused expanse where only the most disgusting plant life grew.

Finally they arrived at the end of the big toe. At least that’s what it looked like to Percy. The fog dissipated, and they found themselves on a peninsula that jutted out over a pitch-black void.

“Here we are.” Akhlys turned and leered at them. Blood from her cheeks dripped on her dress. Her sickly eyes looked moist and swollen but somehow excited. Can Misery look excited?

“Uh… great,” Percy asked. “Where is here?”

“The verge of final death,” Akhlys said. “Where Night meets the void below Tartarus.”

“Final death? As opposed to not-final death?”

Annabeth elbowed him. “It’s the edge of Chaos.”

“She’s right,” Akhlys said. “Here you are closer to nothingness than any mortal has ever been. Can you not feel it?”

Yes, he could. The void seemed to be pulling at Percy, leaching the breath from his lungs and the oxygen from his blood. He looked at Annabeth and saw that her lips were tinged blue.

“We can’t stay here,” he said.

“No, indeed!” Akhlys said. “Don’t you feel the Death Mist? Even now, you pass between. Look!”

White smoke gathered around Percy’s feet. As it coiled up his legs, he realized the smoke wasn’t surrounding him. It was coming from him. His whole body was dissolving. He held up his hands and found they were fuzzy and indistinct. He couldn’t even tell how many fingers he had. Hopefully still ten.

He turned to Annabeth and stifled a yelp. “You’re—uh—”

He couldn’t say it. She looked dead.

Her skin was sallow, her eye sockets dark and sunken. Her beautiful hair had dried into a skein of cobwebs. She looked like she’d been stuck in a cool, dark mausoleum for decades, slowly withering into a desiccated husk. When she turned to look at him, her features momentarily blurred into mist.

Percy’s blood moved like sap in his veins. He hated the Death Mist. It made Annabeth look dead and a dead Annabeth was something Percy could not stand. Perhaps this had been a large influence on how he acted when Akhlys was trying to kill him with poison. Seeing Annabeth like this was too painful. He’d rather stand in the River Phlegethon, or get attacked by arai, or be trampled by giants.

“Percy,” Annabeth said hesitantly.

Percy studied his arms which looked like blobs of white mist. His body felt insubstantial, like he was made of helium and cotton candy. He looked up at Annabeth.

“I’m okay,” he said.

Akhlys clucked. “Oh, you’re definitely not okay.”

Percy frowned. “But we’ll pass unseen now? We can get to the Doors of Death?”

“Well, perhaps you could,” the goddess said, “if you lived that long, which you won’t.”

Akhlys spread her gnarled fingers. More plants bloomed along the edge of the pit—hemlock, nightshade and oleander spreading towards Percy’s feet like a deadly carpet. “The Death Mist is not simply a disguise, you see. It is a state of being. I could not bring you this gift unless death followed—true death.”

“A trap,” Annabeth said.

The goddess cackled. “Didn’t you expect me to betray you?”

“Yes,” Annabeth and Percy said together.

“Well, then, it was hardly a trap! More of an inevitability. Misery is inevitable. Pain is—”

“I am inevitable,” Percy said sarcastically. “Yeah, yeah. We get it, Thanos.” He drew Riptide, hoping that maybe the universe might give him a break and let his sword be solid. His prayers went unanswered when the blade still appeared made of smoke.

The goddess’s ruined mouth split into a grin. “Did I forget to mention? You are only mist now—a shadow before death. Perhaps if you had time, you could learn to control your new form. But you do not have time. Since you cannot touch me, I fear any fight with Misery will be quite one-sided.” Her fingernails grew into talons. Her jaw unhinged, and her yellow teeth elongated into fangs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I watch Infinity War or Endgame before writing this? Honestly? Probably. We watched and rewatched a bunch of Marvel movies recently.


	51. Because Now is the Time to Discuss Underground Tattoo Parlors (Percy LI)

PERCY KNEW AKHLYS COULD TOUCH THEM, but she was a goddess. The goddess of the Death Mist. So it stood to reason that no matter what, Akhlys could always be able to touch them. He didn’t think that rule applied to anything else.

So when Akhlys lunged at Percy, Percy lunged out of the way. Unfortunately, he lunged straight out of the way and into a tree. He blinked the spots out of his eyes and rubbed his now throbbing head.

The goddess’s claws raked across Percy’s back, but all she succeeded in doing was tearing the backpack off his back. “Why didn’t you die?” she wailed.

“Curse of Achilles,” Percy gasped. He looked at his backpack which was now heavily shredded. Thank the gods Annabeth was carrying the one with all their Labyrinth finding and navigating equipment. “Guess it still works when I’m a misty thing.”

That probably wasn’t the best thing to say because then Akhlys turned her attention on Annabeth. She lashed out, and Annabeth dove straight between the goddess’s legs and somersaulted to her feet. Akhlys turned and attacked, but Annabeth dodged again, like a matador.

“Hey, Happy!” Percy yelled.

Akhlys faltered in her third attack. Annabeth ducked back, further from the goddess. Akhlys turned to look at Percy. “Happy?” she demanded.

“Yeah! You’re downright cheerful!”

The goddess snarled, but she made no move to attack Percy. He would have to get her more riled up before she forgot she couldn’t physically hurt Percy.

“Pleasant!” he called. “Delightful!”

That did it. The goddess snarled and stumbled towards Percy, claws raised.

“I will kill you slowly!” she growled, her eyes and nose watering, blood dripping from her cheeks. “I will cut you into pieces as a sacrifice to Night!”

“Cuddly!” Percy said loudly. “Fuzzy, warm, and huggable!”

Akhlys made a growling, choking noise, like a cat having a seizure.

“A slow death!” she screamed. “A death from a thousand poisons!” 

All around her, poisonous plants grew and burst like overfilled balloons. Green-and-white sap trickled out, collecting into pools, and began flowing across the ground towards Percy. The sweet-smelling fumes made his head feel wobbly.

“Achilles’s Curse may protect you from me, but it does not protect you from poison!” Akhlys screamed.

“Percy!” Annabeth’s voice sounded far away. “Percy, I’m here. I’m your anchor.”

The poison ichor was flowing all around him now, making the ground steam and the air burn. Percy found himself stuck on an island of dust not much bigger than a shield. A few yards away, what was left of his backpack smoked and dissolved into a puddle of goo.

“You will feed the eternal darkness,” Akhlys said. “You will die in the arms of Night!”

“No,” Percy said. “I won’t.”

The white-green poison kept pooling, little streams trickling from the plants as the venomous lake around him got wider and wider. Percy glared at the poison flood encroaching from all sides. Warmth flowed through him. The poison tide stopped.

The fumes blew away from him—back towards the goddess. The lake of poison rolled towards her in tiny waves and rivulets.

Akhlys shrieked. “What is this?”

“I’m the son of Poseidon,” Percy said. “Annabeth, come on.” He focused on clearing a path for Annabeth to safely walk to get to him.

She joined his side quickly and placed a hand on his shoulder. Warmth spread from the place her hand touched. Warmth and love.

“You’re going to leave,” he told Akhlys, clearing a path for the goddess to retreat down. “Now!”

Akhlys scrambled along the path, fell on her face and got up again, wailing as she sped into the dark.

As soon as she was gone, the pools of poison evaporated. The plants withered to dust and blew away. Annabeth dropped her hand from Percy’s shoulder. She looked like a corpse wreathed in smoke, but she felt solid enough when she gripped his arms.

“Thank you,” she said.

Percy smiled at her. “Thank  _ you _ for grounding me.”

“I’m not your mother,” Annabeth said.

“You know what I mean,” Percy said. “Anchoring me. Thank you for anchoring me.”

“Mmm, I should get an anchor,” Annabeth mused. “Remind me to ask Will if that underground tattoo parlor is open yet.”

“You want an anchor tattoo?”

Annabeth grinned. “Don’t you think it would look good? Maybe on my wrist.”

“Sure thing, Wise Girl. You ready to meet Night?”

“Nope,” Annabeth said. “Follow my lead.”

The temperature dropped. The abyss before them seemed to exhale.

Percy grabbed Annabeth and backed away from the edge as a presence emerged from the void—a form so vast and shadowy he felt like he understood the concept of dark for the first time.

“No one is ever ready to meet me,” said the darkness, in a feminine voice as soft as coffin lining. “But here I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, underground tattoo parlor is my theory about a certain demigod's apparent tattoo. I don't know who runs it. Maybe Aphrodite cabin? Ares cabin? But yeah, that's what I'm going with. Because I dunno how a year round camper (I think he's year round) gets parent permission to get a tattoo. And I can't see Chiron being okay with pretending to be the parent (now that I've said that, I hilariously CAN picture it and I'm dying).
> 
> But on that note... are there any stories about the tattoo yet? I keep meaning to look (or maybe I have looked and I don't remember it because there wasn't).


	52. I Meet the Girl of My Dream (Leo LII)

THE WAY LEO FIGURED IT, he spent more time crashing than he did flying. If there were a rewards card for frequent crashers, he’d be, like, double platinum level.

He regained consciousness as he was free-falling through the clouds. He had a hazy memory of Khione taunting him right before he got shot into the sky. He hadn’t actually seen her, but he could never forget that snow witch’s voice. He had no idea how long he’d been gaining altitude, but at some point he must have passed out from the cold and the lack of oxygen. Now he was on his way down, heading for his biggest crash ever.

The clouds parted around him. He saw the glittering sea far, far below. No sign of the  _ Argo II. _ No sign of any coastline, familiar or otherwise, except for one tiny island at the horizon.

Leo couldn’t fly. He had a couple of minutes at most before he’d hit the water and go  _ ker-splat. _ He decided he didn’t like that ending to the Epic Ballad of Leo.

He was still clutching the Archimedes sphere, which didn’t surprise him. Unconscious or not, he would never let go of his most valuable possession. With a little manoeuvring, he managed to pull some duct tape from his tool belt and strap the sphere to his chest. That made him look like a low-budget Iron Man, but at least he had both hands free. He started to work, furiously tinkering with the sphere, pulling out anything he thought would help from his magic tool belt: a drop cloth, metal extenders, some string and grommets.

Working while falling was almost impossible. The wind roared in his ears. It kept ripping tools, screws and canvas out of his hands, but finally he constructed a makeshift frame. He popped open a hatch on the sphere, teased out two wires and connected them to his crossbar.

How long until he hit the water? Maybe a minute?

He turned the sphere’s control dial, and it whirred into action. More bronze wires shot from the orb, intuitively sensing what Leo needed. Cords laced up the canvas drop cloth. The frame began to expand on its own. Leo pulled out a can of kerosene and a rubber tube and lashed them to the thirsty new engine that the orb was helping him assemble.

Finally he made himself a rope halter and shifted so that the X-frame was attached to his back. The sea got closer and closer—a glittering expanse of slap-you-in-the-face death.

He yelled in defiance and punched the sphere’s override switch.

The engine coughed to life. The makeshift rotor turned. The canvas blades spun, but much too slowly. Leo’s head was pointed straight down at the sea—maybe thirty seconds to impact.

_ At least nobody’s around, _ he thought bitterly,  _ or I’d be a demigod joke forever. What was the last thing to go through Leo’s mind? The Mediterranean. _

Suddenly the orb got warm against his chest. The blades turned faster. The engine coughed, and Leo tilted sideways, slicing through the air.

“YES!” he yelled.

He had successfully created the world’s most dangerous personal helicopter.

He shot towards the island in the distance, but he was still falling much too fast. The blades shuddered. The canvas screamed.

The beach was only a few hundred yards away when the sphere turned lava-hot and the helicopter exploded, shooting flames in every direction. If he hadn’t been immune to fire, Leo would have been charcoal. As it was, the midair explosion probably saved his life. The blast flung Leo sideways while the bulk of his flaming contraption smashed into the shore at full speed with a massive  _ KA-BOOM! _

Leo opened his eyes, amazed to be alive. He was sitting in a bathtub-sized crater in the sand. A few yards away, a column of thick black smoke roiled into the sky from a much larger crater. The surrounding beach was peppered with smaller pieces of burning wreckage.

“My sphere.” Leo patted his chest. The sphere wasn’t there. His duct tape and rope halter had disintegrated.

He struggled to his feet. None of his bones seemed broken, which was good, but mostly he was worried about his Archimedes sphere. If he’d destroyed his priceless artefact to make a flaming thirty-second helicopter, he was going to track down that stupid snow goddess Khione and smack her with a monkey wrench.

He staggered across the beach, wondering why there weren’t any tourists or hotels or boats in sight. The island seemed perfect for a resort, with blue water and soft white sand. Maybe it was uncharted. Did they still have uncharted islands in the world? Maybe Khione had blasted him out of the Mediterranean altogether. For all he knew, he was in Bora Bora.

The larger crater was about eight feet deep. At the bottom, the helicopter blades were still trying to turn. The engine belched smoke. The rotor croaked like a stepped-on frog, but dang—pretty impressive for a rush job. The helicopter had apparently crashed onto something. The crater was littered with broken wooden furniture, shattered china plates, some half-melted pewter goblets and burning linen napkins. Leo wasn’t sure why all that fancy stuff had been on the beach, but at least it meant that this place was inhabited, after all.

Finally he spotted the Archimedes sphere—steaming and charred but still intact, making unhappy clicking noises in the centre of the wreckage.

“Sphere!” he yelled. “Come to Papa!”

He skidded to the bottom of the crater and snatched up the sphere. He collapsed, sat cross-legged and cradled the device in his hands. The bronze surface was searing hot, but Leo didn’t care. It was still in one piece, which meant he could use it.

Now, if he could just figure out where he was and how to get back to his friends…

He was making a mental list of tools he might need when a girl’s voice interrupted him: “What are you doing? You blew up my dining table!”

Immediately Leo thought:  _ Uh-oh. _

He’d met a lot of goddesses, but the girl glaring down at him from the edge of the crater actually looked like a goddess. She wore a sleeveless white Greek-style dress with a gold braided belt. Her hair was long, straight and golden brown—almost the same cinnamon-toast color as Hazel’s, but the similarity to Hazel ended there. The girl’s face was milky pale, with dark almond-shaped eyes and pouty lips. She looked maybe fifteen, about Leo’s age, and sure she was pretty, but with that angry expression on her face she reminded Leo of every popular girl in every school he’d ever attended—the ones who made fun of him, gossiped a lot, thought they were so superior and basically did everything they could to make his life miserable.

His second thought:  _ I know her. _

“You,” he said. “You’re the girl from my dream.”

The girl frowned. “Was that supposed to be one of those mortal pick-up lines?”

“What? No. I mean, sure, it could be, but that’s not what I meant. I had this dream—demigod dream, you know? There was a girl talking to me. I’m sure it was you.” Leo looked around. “And this beach! We were talking on this beach. I’m almost positive.” A thought occurred to him. “It might have been a memory thing,” he mused. “I must have come here before.”

The girl’s expression turned sad. “That is impossible. No one comes here more than once. I am familiar with demigod dreams. Perhaps you did dream of this moment. But you have not been here before.”

Leo didn’t bother to correct her. Nico didn’t  _ say _ not to tell anyone about the whole time travel thing, but it was pretty much implied, Leo thought. He picked up a half-melted goblet with a wince.

“Look, I’m sorry about your table, but I just fell out of the sky. I constructed a helicopter in midair, burst into flames halfway down, crash-landed, and barely survived.” Leo tilted his head. “Why do you even have a dining table on the beach?”

The girl’s initial ire at him came back. She clenched her fists and Leo was pretty sure she was going to march down the crater and punch him in the face. Instead, she looked up at the sky.

“REALLY?” she screamed at the empty blue. “You want to make my curse even worse? Zeus! Hephaestus! Hermes! Have you no shame?”

“Uh…” Leo noticed that she’d just picked three gods to blame, and one of them was his dad. He figured that wasn’t a good sign. “I doubt they’re listening. You know, the whole split-personality thing—”

“Show yourself!” the girl yelled at the sky, completely ignoring Leo. “It’s not bad enough I am exiled? It’s not bad enough you take away the few good heroes I’m allowed to meet? You think it’s funny to send me this—this charbroiled runt of a boy to ruin my tranquillity? And… and taunt me with the impossible? This is NOT FUNNY! Take him back!”

“Hey, Sunshine,” Leo said. “I’m right here, you know.”

She growled like a cornered animal. “Do not call me Sunshine! Get out of that hole and come with me now so I can get you off my island!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Leo didn’t know what the crazy girl was so worked up about. But something was tugging at the back of his mind. He knew this girl had been the one from his dream, but he didn’t understand why he’d seen a girl he’d never met until now. He wanted to stay, to try and figure out why she’d been in his dream.

But the girl was already marching away down the shoreline. Leo clutched his charred sphere and clambered out of the crater. He jogged to catch up to the girl.

“Hey, wait!” he called.

“What do you want?” the girl asked. She slowed a tiny bit.

Leo caught up to her. “I didn’t mean to crash into your table. If you’re that mad about it, I can fix it for you. I like fixing things.”

The girl let out a breath. “I can fix it myself. Just… you need to leave.” She picked up her pace as she walked along the edge of the water.

“No, wait! I just want to know what it means!”

The girl halted and spun around. “What? What does what mean?”

“My dream,” Leo said exasperatedly. “You were in it. We were on this exact beach! You told me to run because there was this giant coming for me. I tried to get you to come with me, but you wouldn’t come.”

The girl squeezed her eyes shut. “I do not know what your dream means. Please stop asking me. Now tell me you want to leave.”

“What?”

“Do you want to leave?” she demanded. “Surely you’ve got somewhere to go!”

“Uh… yeah, I guess. My friends are in trouble. I probably need to get back to my ship and—”

“Exactly,” she snapped. “Just say, I want to leave Ogygia.” Her tone kinda hurt.

Leo crossed his arms over his sphere. “But I  _ don’t. _ Not until I know why I saw you in my dream. Everything happens for a reason, right? No coincidences? I had this dream and now I’m here. There must be a reason this happened.”

“Just say it!” the girl shrieked. Her voice cracked at the end. “Please,” she begged.

Leo sighed. “Okay, okay. Uh, I want to leave…”

“Oh-gee-gee-ah,” the girl supplied, pronouncing it slowly.

“I want to leave Oh-gee-gee-ah,” he said.

She exhaled, clearly relieved. “Good. In a moment, a magical raft will appear. It will take you wherever you want to go.”

“Who are you?”

She looked like she was about to answer but stopped herself. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll be gone soon. This was all… This was a mistake. You’re a mistake.”

_ That was harsh, _ Leo thought.

He’d spent enough time thinking he was a mistake—as a demigod, on this quest, in life in general. He didn’t need a random crazy goddess reinforcing the idea.

He remembered a Greek legend about a girl on an island… Maybe one of his friends had mentioned it? It didn’t matter. As long as she let him leave.

“Any moment now…” The girl stared out at the water.

No magical raft appeared.

“Maybe it got stuck in traffic,” Leo said.

“This is wrong.” She glared at the sky. “This is completely wrong!”

“So… plan B?” Leo asked. “You got a phone, or—”

“Agh!” The girl turned and stormed inland. When she got to the footpath, she sprinted into the grove of trees and disappeared.

“Okay,” Leo said. “Or you could just run away.”

From his tool-belt pouches he pulled some rope and a snap hook, then fastened the Archimedes sphere to his belt.

He looked out to sea. Still no magic raft.

He could stand here and wait, but he was hungry, thirsty and tired. He was banged up pretty bad from his fall.

But he really wanted to follow that girl. He knew she was important to the quest. And if she wouldn’t help Leo figure it out, then he’d just figure it out himself.

He followed her into the hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I changed up the encounter a little. I don't know how apparent it is in this chapter, but there's definitely a few changes going on throughout all four Leo chapters.


	53. Percy's Ex Asks About Him (Leo LIII)

“HOLY HEPHAESTUS,” LEO SAID.

The path opened into the nicest garden Leo had ever seen. Not that he had spent a lot of time in gardens, but dang.

On the left was an orchard and a vineyard—peach trees with red-golden fruit that smelled awesome in the warm sun, carefully pruned vines bursting with grapes, bowers of flowering jasmine and a bunch of other plants Leo couldn’t name.

On the right were neat beds of vegetables and herbs, arranged like spokes around a big sparkling fountain where bronze satyrs spewed water into a central bowl.

At the back of the garden, where the footpath ended, a cave opened on the side of a grassy hill. Compared to Bunker Nine back at camp, the entrance was tiny, but it was impressive in its own way.

On either side, crystalline rock had been carved into glittering Grecian columns. The tops were fitted with a bronze rod that held silky white curtains.

Leo’s nose was assaulted by good smells—cedar, juniper, jasmine, peaches and fresh herbs. The aroma from the cave really caught his attention—like beef stew cooking.

He started towards the entrance. Seriously, how could he not? He stopped when he noticed the girl. She was kneeling in her vegetable garden, her back to Leo. She muttered to herself as she dug furiously with a trowel.

Leo approached her from one side so she could see him. He didn’t feel like surprising her when she was armed with a sharp gardening implement.  She kept cursing in Ancient Greek and stabbing at the dirt. She had flecks of soil all over her arms, her face and her white dress, but she didn’t seem to care.  Leo could appreciate that. She looked better with a little mud—less like a beauty queen and more like an actual get-your-hands-dirty kind of person.

“I think you’ve punished that dirt enough,” he offered.

She scowled at him, her eyes red and watery. “Just go away.”

“You’re crying,” he said, which was stupidly obvious, but seeing her that way took the wind out of his helicopter blades, so to speak. It was hard to stay mad at someone who was crying.

“None of your business,” she muttered. “It’s a big island. Just… find your own place. Leave me alone.” She waved vaguely towards the south. “Go that way, maybe.”

“So, no magic raft,” Leo said. “No other way off the island?”

“Apparently not!”

“What am I supposed to do, then? Sit in the sand dunes until I die?”

“I thought you didn’t want to leave.”

Leo blinked. The girl gave him a small, teasing smile.

“I do want to leave,” Leo said. “I just figured I could get my answers then leave. I do need to get back to my friends. We’re on a quest to find the Doors of Death right now. Two of my friends, Percy and Annabeth, are kind of counting on us to get there quick.”

The girl’s smile fell. “Percy and Annabeth? Percy Jackson?”

“Yeah, do you know them?” Leo asked.

“Percy and I have met,” she admitted. “He mentioned Annabeth.”

Suddenly the conversation had turned very stale. The way this girl said Percy’s name… well, Leo was pretty sure  _ something _ had happened between them. And based on Percy’s feelings for Annabeth, Leo thought it was a pretty good guess to say that something had been one-sided.

“How are they?” the girl asked abruptly. “Percy and Annabeth?”

Leo winced. “Uh, I haven’t seen them in a while. They kinda… fell into Tartarus? That’s where the other side of the Doors are. Like I said, they’re counting on us to get there to rescue them.”

Tears welled in the girl’s eyes.

“Hey, they’re going to be fine,” Leo said. “My friends and I can save them.”

“He promised he would see me again,” the girl said. “Before he left, Percy told me that one day my curse would break and he would see me then. I have been holding onto that promise for a long time. Percy is a good man, and I should like to meet Annabeth one day.”

“Curse? What curse?” Leo asked.

She flexed her fingers, like she was practising her throat-strangling technique. “Yes. I cannot leave Ogygia. My father, Atlas, fought against the gods, and I supported him.”

“Atlas,” Leo said. “As in the Titan Atlas?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Yes, you impossible little…” Whatever she was going to say, she bit it back. “I was imprisoned here, where I could cause the Olympians no trouble. About a year ago, after the Second Titan War, the gods vowed to forgive their enemies and offer amnesty. Supposedly Percy made them promise.” She dug her fingers into the soil. “I—I thought I would be released. I dared to hope… but I am still here.”

Leo remembered now. The story was supposed to be a secret, but of course that meant it had spread like wildfire across the camp. Percy had told Annabeth. Months later, when Percy had gone missing, Annabeth told Piper. Piper told Jason…

Percy had talked about visiting this island. He had met a goddess who’d developed a major crush on him and wanted him to stay, but eventually she let him go.

“Calypso,” Leo said. “You’re Calypso, right?”

“Yes,” Calypso said. “And you’re…”

“Leo Valdez,” he said, sticking out a hand. Calypso shook it hesitantly. He stood up straight. “I’m going to figure out a way off this island. There’s got to be a way. Every problem has a fix.”

She laughed bitterly. “You haven’t lived very long, if you still believe that.”

The way she said it sent a shiver up his back. She looked the same age as him, but he wondered how old she really was.

“Maybe you haven’t lived long enough,” he countered.

Calypso shook her head. She stood up and beckoned Leo to follow her into her cave.

When he got inside, he lost his train of thought. The walls were made from multicolored chunks of crystal. White curtains divided the cave into different rooms with comfy pillows and woven rugs and platters of fresh fruit. He spotted a harp in one corner, a loom in another and a big cooking pot where the stew was bubbling, filling the cavern with luscious smells.

The strangest thing? The chores were doing themselves. Towels floated through the air, folding and stacking into neat piles. Spoons washed themselves in a copper sink. The scene reminded Leo of the invisible wind spirits that had served him lunch at Camp Jupiter.

Calypso went to a washbasin, cleaning the dirt off her arms.

“Hey, maybe I can try and break this curse too,” Leo suggested. “I bet I could build a hammer strong enough to whack that curse into the next century. What  _ is _ your curse anyway? This is a pretty nice island. If you could stay here your whole life, why wouldn’t you?” Of course, Leo was saying this as someone who had been to multiple foster homes and had spent some time living on the streets between homes. He figured after however many centuries Calypso had been here, it was probably getting old.

Calypso’s hands balled into fists. “This island is my home, yes, and I could never see harm come to it, but that is not my curse. The gods send me the greatest heroes, the ones I cannot help but…”

“You fall in love with them,” Leo guessed. “And then they leave you.”

Her chin trembled. “That is my curse. I had hoped to be free of it by now, but here I am, still stuck on Ogygia after three thousand years.”

“Three thousand.” Leo’s mouth felt tingly, like he’d just eaten Pop Rocks. “Uh, you look good for three thousand.”

“And now the gods have sent me you,” she said. “You who keep tempting me with hopes of finally breaking the curse and escaping. I will spare you the trouble. It is no use. Only the gods can end my curse, and none of them are very interested in doing that.”

Calypso didn’t say that Leo didn’t fit the perfect hero type she had, but he understood. If Jason had been the one to land on her island, Calypso would have fallen all over him. She’d beg him to stay, but he’d be all noble about returning to his duties, and he’d leave Calypso brokenhearted. That magic raft would totally arrive for him.

But Leo? He was the annoying guest she couldn’t get rid of. She’d never fall for him, because she was totally out of his league. Which kinda sucked because Calypso was beautiful and when she wasn’t yelling at him, Leo thought they almost seemed like friends.

“I can still try,” Leo said.

She shook her head sadly. “You don’t understand, do you? The gods are laughing at both of us. If the raft will not appear, that means they’ve closed Ogygia. You’re stuck here the same as me. You can never leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do love Caleo. I wasn't a huge fan of the relationship in ToA though I'm going to chalk that down to me apparently being a hopeless romantic when it comes to characters. Anyway, I made them have a better starting relationship here with them being kinda friends rather than yelling at each other.


	54. Magic Mirror On the Beach, Show Me What's Just Out of Reach (Leo LIV)

THE FIRST FEW DAYS WERE THE WORST.

Leo slept outside on a bed of drop cloths under the stars. It got cold at night, even on the beach in the summer, so he built fires with the remains of Calypso’s dining table.

During the days, he walked the circumference of the island and found nothing of interest—unless you liked beaches and endless sea in every direction. He tried to send an Iris-message in the rainbows that formed in the sea spray, but he had no luck. He didn’t have any drachmas for an offering, and apparently the goddess Iris wasn’t interested in nuts and bolts.

He didn’t even dream, which was unusual for him—or for any demigod—so he had no idea what was going on in the outside world. Had his friends got rid of Khione? Were they looking for him, or had they sailed on to Epirus to complete the quest?

He wasn’t even sure what to hope for.

The dream he’d had back on the  _ Argo II _ finally made a little sense to him—when the evil sorceress lady had told him to either jump off a cliff into the clouds, or descend into a dark tunnel where ghostly voices whispered. That tunnel must have represented the House of Hades, which Leo would never see now. He’d taken the cliff instead—falling through the sky to this stupid island. But in the dream Leo had been given a choice. In real life he’d had none. Khione had simply plucked him off his ship and shot him into orbit. Totally unfair.

He still didn’t understand Calypso’s part, but when the girl had finally let him explain a little more, she seemed just as perplexed as Leo.

“Hypnos or his children would be more help,” she had said. “Perhaps it just meant that by coming here, I helped you escape a terrible fate at the House of Hades.”

The worst part of being stuck here? He was losing track of the days. He woke up one morning and couldn’t remember if he’d been on Ogygia for three nights or four.

Calypso wasn’t much help on that either. Leo confronted her in the garden, but she just shook her head. “Time is difficult here.”

Great. For all Leo knew, a century had passed in the real world and the war with Gaea was over for better or worse. Or maybe he’d only been on Ogygia for five minutes. His whole life might pass here in the time it took his friends on the  _ Argo II _ to have breakfast.

Either way, he needed to get off this island.

Calypso took pity on him in some ways. She sent her invisible servants to leave bowls of stew and goblets of lemonade at the edge of the garden. She even sent him a few new sets of clothes—simple undyed cotton trousers and shirts that she must have made on her loom. They fitted him so well, Leo wondered how she’d got his measurements. Maybe she just used her generic pattern for SCRAWNY MALE.

Anyway, he was glad to have new threads, since his old ones were pretty smelly and burnt. Usually Leo could keep his clothes from burning when he caught fire, but it took concentration. Sometimes back at camp, if he wasn’t thinking about it, he’d be working on some metal project at the hot forge, look down and realize his clothes had burned away, except for his magic tool belt and a smoking pair of underpants. Kind of embarrassing.

Sometimes Calypso would bring the food and she would eat with him. She would ask Leo about his friends and what was going on in the mortal world.

“The few gods who are kind to me have not been to visit in awhile,” she admitted. “Hermes or Hephaestus usually bring me news of the outside world, but…”

“Hermes and Mercury are probably duking it out for dominance,” Leo finished. “Same with Hephaestus and Vulcan.”

Calypso nodded.

Leo ended up pitching a more permanent camp near the footpath, where the beach met the hills. Calypso had reluctantly offered him space in her cave, but Leo turned her down. If this was going to be forever like she claimed, Leo would need to make his own place eventually. Besides, he needed a space to figure out how to get off this island.

He made himself a lean-to with sticks and canvas. He dug a campfire pit. He even managed to build himself a bench and a worktable from some driftwood and dead cedar branches. He spent hours fixing the Archimedes sphere, cleaning it and repairing its circuits. He made himself a compass, but the needle would spin all crazy no matter what he tried. Leo guessed a GPS would have been useless, too. This island was designed to be off the charts, impossible to leave.

He remembered the old bronze astrolabe he’d picked up in Bologna—the one the dwarfs told him Odysseus had made. He had a sneaking suspicion Odysseus had been thinking about this island when he constructed it, but unfortunately Leo had left it back on the ship with Buford the Wonder Table.

Besides, the dwarfs had told him the astrolabe didn’t work. Something about a missing crystal…

He walked the beach, wondering why Khione had sent him here—assuming his landing here wasn’t an accident. Why not just kill him instead? Maybe Khione wanted him to be in limbo forever. Perhaps she knew the gods were too incapacitated to pay attention to Ogygia, and so the island’s magic was broken. That could be why Calypso was still stuck here and why the magic raft wouldn’t appear for Leo.

Or maybe the magic of this place was working just fine. The gods had punished Calypso by sending her buff courageous dudes who left as soon as she fell for them. Maybe that was the problem. Calypso would never fall for Leo. She wanted him to leave. So they were stuck in a vicious circle. If that was Khione’s plan… wow. Major-league devious.

Then one morning he made a discovery, and things got even more complicated.

Leo was walking in the hills, following a little brook that ran between two big cedar trees. He liked this area—it was the only place on Ogygia where he couldn’t see the sea, so he could pretend he wasn’t stuck on an island. In the shade of the trees, he almost felt like he was back at Camp Half-Blood, heading through the woods towards Bunker Nine.

He jumped over the creek. Instead of landing on soft earth, his feet hit something much harder.

_ CLANG. _

Metal.

Excited, Leo dug through the mulch until he saw the glint of bronze.

“Oh, man.” He giggled like a crazy person as he excavated the scraps.

He had no idea why the stuff was here. Hephaestus was always tossing broken parts out of his godly workshop and littering the earth with scrap metal, but what were the chances some of it would hit Ogygia?

Leo found a handful of wires, a few bent gears, a piston that might still work and several hammered sheets of Celestial bronze—the smallest the size of a drink coaster, the largest the size of a war shield. It wasn’t a lot—not compared to Bunker Nine or even to his supplies aboard the  _ Argo II _ . But it was more than sand and rocks.

He looked up at the sunlight winking through the cedar branches. “Dad? If you sent this here for me—thanks. If you didn’t… well, thanks, anyway.”

He gathered up his treasure trove and lugged it back to his campsite.

After that, the days passed more quickly, and with a lot more noise.

First, Leo made himself a forge out of mud bricks, each one baked with his own fiery hands. He found a large rock he could use as an anvil base, and he pulled nails from his tool belt until he had enough to melt into a plate for a hammering surface.

Once that was done, he began to recast the Celestial bronze scraps. Each day his hammer rang on bronze until his rock anvil broke, or his tongs bent, or he ran out of firewood. Each evening he collapsed, drenched in sweat and covered in soot, but he felt great. At least he was working, trying to solve his problem.

Calypso came to see him, but it wasn’t to have a nice, friendly conversation.

“Smoke and fire,” she said. “Clanging on metal all day long. You’re scaring away the birds!”

“Oh, no, not the birds!” Leo grumbled.

“What do you hope to accomplish? I told you it was useless to try and leave.”

He glanced up and almost smashed his thumb with his hammer. He’d been staring at metal and fire so long he’d forgotten how beautiful Calypso was. Annoyingly beautiful. She stood there with the sunlight in her hair, her white skirt fluttering around her legs, a basket of grapes and fresh-baked bread tucked under one arm.

Leo tried to ignore his rumbling stomach.

“I’m hoping to get off this island,” he said. “I don’t care what you said. My friends are in trouble, and I need to get back there.”

Calypso scowled. She set the basket near his bedroll. “You haven’t eaten in two days. Take a break and eat.”

“Two days?” Leo hadn’t even noticed, which surprised him, since he liked food. “Thanks,” he muttered. “I’ll, uh, try to hammer more quietly.”

“Just… don’t get your hopes up,” she said.

After that, she didn’t complain about the noise or the smoke.

The next time she visited, Leo was putting the final touches to his first project. He didn’t see her approach until she spoke right behind him.

“I brought you—”

Leo jumped, dropping his wires. “Bronze bulls, girl! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

She was wearing red today—Leo’s favourite color. That was completely irrelevant. She looked really good in red. Also irrelevant.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” she said. “I was bringing you these.”

She showed him the clothes that were folded over her arm: a new pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, an army fatigue jacket… wait, those were his clothes, except that they couldn’t be. His original army jacket had burned up months ago. He hadn’t been wearing it when he landed on Ogygia. But the clothes Calypso held looked exactly like the clothes he’d been wearing the first day he’d arrived at Camp Half-Blood—except these looked bigger, resized to fit him better.

“How?” he asked.

Calypso set the clothes at his feet and backed away as if he were a dangerous beast. “I do have a little magic, you know. You keep burning through the clothes I give you, so I thought I would weave something less flammable.”

“These won’t burn?” He picked up the jeans, but they felt just like normal denim.

“They are completely fireproof,” Calypso promised. “They’ll stay clean and expand to fit you, should you ever become less scrawny.”

“Thanks.” Leo looked up at her. “So… you made an exact replica of my favorite outfit. Did you, like, google me or something?”

She frowned. “I don’t know that word.”

“It’s like this internet thing,” Leo tried to explain. “You can look stuff up on it. Like a book but faster.” He waved it off. “I’ll have to show you one day.”

“Well, you fixed my fountain and my curtains and my gardening tools,” Calypso said. “I was just returning the favor.”

Leo shrugged. “I needed something to do. I don’t like it when things don’t work right.”

Calypso rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She pointed at his worktable. “What are you building?”

“Oh.” He looked at the bronze mirror, which he’d just finished wiring up to the Archimedes sphere.

In the screen’s polished surface, his own reflection surprised him. His hair had grown out longer and curlier. His face was thinner and more chiselled, maybe because he hadn’t been eating. His eyes were dark and a little ferocious when he wasn’t smiling—kind of a Tarzan look, if Tarzan came in extra-small Latino.

“Uh, it’s a seeing device,” he said. “We found one like this in Rome, in the workshop of Archimedes. If I can make it work, maybe I can find out what’s going on with my friends.”

Calypso shook her head. “I told you that’s impossible. This island is hidden, cut off from the world by strong magic. Time doesn’t even flow the same here.”

“Well, you’ve got to have some kind of outside contact besides the gods. How did you find out that I used to wear an army jacket?”

She twisted her hair as if the question made her uncomfortable. “Seeing the past is simple magic. Seeing the present or the future—that is not.”

“Yeah, well,” Leo said. “Watch and learn, Sunshine. I just connect these last two wires, and—”

The bronze plate sparked. Smoke billowed from the sphere. A flash fire raced up Leo’s sleeve. He pulled off his shirt, threw it down and stomped on it. He could tell Calypso was trying not to laugh, but she was shaking with the effort.

“Not a word,” Leo warned.

She glanced at his bare chest, which was sweaty, bony and streaked with old scars from weapon-making accidents.

“Nothing worth commenting on,” she assured him. “If you want that device to work, perhaps you should try a musical invocation.”

“Right,” he said. “Whenever an engine malfunctions, I like to tap-dance around it. Works every time.”

She took a deep breath and began to sing.

Her voice hit him like a cool breeze—like that first cold front in Texas when the summer heat finally breaks and you start to believe things might get better. Leo couldn’t understand the words, but the song was plaintive and bittersweet, as if she were describing a home she could never return to.

Her singing was magic, no doubt. But it wasn’t like Medea’s trance-inducing voice, or even Piper’s charmspeak. The music didn’t want anything from him. It simply reminded him of his best memories—building things with his mom in her workshop; sitting in the sunshine with his friends at camp. It made him miss home.

Calypso stopped singing. Leo realized he was staring like an idiot.

“Any luck?” she asked.

“Uh…” He forced his eyes back to the bronze mirror. “Nothing. Wait…”

The screen glowed. In the air above it, holographic pictures shimmered to life.

Leo recognized the commons at Camp Half-Blood.

There was no sound, but Clarisse LaRue from the Ares Cabin was yelling orders at the campers, forming them into lines. Leo’s brethren from Cabin Nine hurried around, fitting everyone with armour and passing out weapons.

Even Chiron the centaur was dressed for war. He trotted up and down the ranks, his plumed helmet gleaming, his legs decked in bronze greaves. His usual friendly smile was gone, replaced with a look of grim determination.

In the distance, Greek triremes floated on Long Island Sound, prepped for war. Along the hills, catapults were being primed. Satyrs patrolled the fields, and riders on pegasi circled overhead, alert for aerial attacks.

“Your friends?” Calypso asked.

Leo nodded. His face felt numb. “They’re preparing for war.”

“Against whom?”

“Look,” Leo said.

The scene changed. A phalanx of Roman demigods marched through a moonlit vineyard. An illuminated sign in the distance read: GOLDSMITH WINERY.

“I’ve seen that sign before,” Leo said. “That’s not far from Camp Half-Blood.”

Suddenly the Roman ranks deteriorated into chaos. Demigods scattered. Shields fell. Javelins swung wildly, like the whole group had stepped in fire ants.

Darting through the moonlight were two small hairy shapes dressed in mismatched clothes and garish hats. They seemed to be everywhere at once—whacking Romans on the head, stealing their weapons, cutting their belts so their trousers fell around their ankles.

Leo couldn’t help grinning. “Those beautiful little troublemakers! They kept their promise.”

Calypso leaned in, watching the Kerkopes. “Cousins of yours?”

“Ha, ha, ha, no,” Leo said. “Couple of dwarfs I met in Bologna. I sent them to slow down the Romans, and they’re doing it.”

“But for how long?” Calypso wondered.

Good question. The scene shifted again. Leo saw Octavian—that no-good blond scarecrow of an augur. He stood in a gas-station parking lot, surrounded by black SUVs and Roman demigods. He held up a long pole wrapped in canvas. When he uncovered it, a golden eagle glimmered at the top.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Leo said.

“A Roman standard,” Calypso noted.

“Yeah. And this one shoots lightning, according to, uh, my Roman friends.” Leo tactfully avoided mentioning it was actually Percy who said this.

He refocused on the holographic images. Now he saw a single rider—Reyna, the praetor from Camp Jupiter—flying through a storm on the back of a light-brown pegasus. Reyna’s dark hair flew in the wind. Her purple cloak fluttered, revealing the glimmer of her armour. She was bleeding from cuts on her arms and face. Her pegasus’s eyes were wild, his mouth slathering from hard riding, but Reyna peered steadfastly forward into the storm.

As Leo watched, a wild gryphon dived out of the clouds. It raked its claws across the horse’s ribs, almost throwing Reyna. She drew her sword and slashed the monster down. Seconds later, three venti appeared—dark air spirits swirling like miniature tornadoes laced with lightning. Reyna charged them, yelling defiantly.

The scene shifted. Now it showed two girls in the stables at Camp Half-Blood. It was later than the first vision showing Camp. They were strapping knives and swords to their legs and hips and they had bows and quivers slung across their backs.

Leo just barely caught a glimpse of the face of one of the girls.

Then the bronze mirror went dark.

“Oh gods,” Leo said. “What the Hades is Nico’s sister doing?”

“Who?” Calypso asked.

Leo gestured to the mirror. “That girl in the last image. Her name is Bianca. Her brother’s one of my friends from the ship I built, the  _ Argo II. _ She’s at Camp, but it looks like her and some other girl are weaponing up to leave. And Reyna… I hope she got Jason’s message. She’s flying alone to meet us at Epirus.” His heart rate increased. “Oh gods, if my friends are waiting for me, no one is going to be there when Reyna arrives! I need to get back. Reyna  _ needs  _ to get that statue from us.”

_ NEED, _ a voice rumbled in the ground beneath his feet. Leo staggered, suddenly feeling like he was standing on the surface of a trampoline.

_ NEED is an overused word. _ A swirling human figure erupted from the sand—Leo’s least favourite goddess, the Mistress of Mud, the Princess of Potty Sludge, Gaea herself.

Leo threw a pair of pliers at her. Unfortunately she wasn’t solid and they passed right through. Her eyes were closed, but she didn’t look asleep, exactly. She had a smile on her dust-devil face, as if she was intently listening to her favourite song. Her sandy robes shifted and folded, reminding Leo of the undulating fins on that stupid shrimpzilla monster they’d fought in the Atlantic. For his money, though, Gaea was uglier.

_ You want to live, _ Gaea said.  _ You want to join your friends. But you do not need this, my poor boy. It would make no difference. Your friends will die, regardless. _

Leo’s legs shook. He hated it, but whenever this witch appeared he felt like he was eight years old again, trapped in the lobby of his mom’s machine shop, listening to Gaea’s soothing evil voice while his mother was locked inside the burning warehouse, dying from heat and smoke.

“What I don’t need,” he growled, “is more lies from you, Dirt Face. You told Hazel my great-granddad died in the 1960s. Wrong! You told me I couldn’t save my friends in Rome. Wrong! You told me a lot of things.”

Gaea’s laughter was a soft rustling sound, like gravel trickling down a hill in the first moments of an avalanche.  _ I tried to help you make better choices. You could have saved yourself. But you defied me at every step. You built your ship. You joined that foolish quest. Now you are trapped here, helpless, while the mortal world dies. _

Leo’s hands burst into flame. He wanted to melt Gaea’s sandy face to glass. Then he felt Calypso’s hand on his shoulder.

“Gaea.” Her voice was stern and steady. “You are not welcome.”

Leo wished he could sound as confident as Calypso. Then he remembered that this annoying fifteen-year-old girl was actually the immortal daughter of a Titan.

_ Ah, Calypso. _ Gaea raised her arms as if for a hug.  _ Still here, I see, despite the gods’ promises. Why do you think that is, my dear grandchild? Are the Olympians being spiteful, leaving you with no company except this undergrown fool? Or have they simply forgotten you, because you are not worth their time? _

Calypso stared straight through the swirling face of Gaea, all the way to the horizon.

_ Yes, _ Gaea murmured sympathetically.  _ The Olympians are faithless. They do not give second chances. Why do you hold out hope? You supported your father, Atlas, in his great war. You knew that the gods must be destroyed. Why do you hesitate now? I offer you a chance that Zeus would never give you. _

“Where were you these last three thousand years?” Calypso asked. “If you are so concerned with my fate, why do you visit me only now?”

Gaea turned up her palms.  _ The earth is slow to wake. War comes in its own time. But do not think it will pass you by on Ogygia. When I remake the world, this prison will be destroyed as well. _

That’s when Leo knew Calypso would never side with Gaea. It had been one of the first things she said to him when he arrived.

_ “This island is my home, yes, and I could never see harm come to it, but that is not my curse.” _

The moment Gaea said Calypso’s home would be destroyed, Leo saw Calypso’s eyes harden.

“Ogygia destroyed?” Calypso shook her head, as if she couldn’t imagine those two words going together.

_ You do not have to be here when that happens, _ Gaea promised.  _ Join me now. Kill this boy. Spill his blood upon the earth, and help me to wake. I will free you and grant you any wish. Freedom. Revenge against the gods. Even a prize. Would you still have the demigod Percy Jackson? I will spare him for you. I will raise him from Tartarus. He will be yours to punish or to love, as you choose. Only kill this trespassing boy. Show your loyalty. _

Several scenarios went through Leo’s head. He was almost positive Calypso would not stand to let her beloved island be destroyed, but it wasn’t everyday Calypso got an offer like that. Kill Leo and get handsome Percy Jackson free.

Calypso thrust her hand towards Gaea in a three-fingered gesture Leo recognized from Camp Half-Blood: the Ancient Greek ward against evil. “This is not just my prison, Grandmother. It is my home. And you are the trespasser.”

The wind ripped Gaea’s form into nothingness, scattering the sand into the blue sky.

“I knew it,” Leo said.

Calypso blinked. “Knew what?”

“That you wouldn’t side with Gaea,” he said. “You told me you would never wish to see any harm come to Ogygia.”

Calypso swallowed. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do. Why do you think I haven’t blown up the island yet?”

Calypso’s lips twitched. “You’re impossible. What do we do now?”

“What?”

“Your friends must need you, or else Gaea would not ask for your death.”

“I—uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Then we have work to do,” she said. “We must get you back to your ship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little extra glimpse of Bianca and Allegra here.
> 
> Also... yes, I am aware the title doesn't rhyme. I just wanted to use "Magic Mirror".
> 
> Edit: new title courtesy of [wellcrud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellcrud/pseuds/wellcrud)
> 
> Y’all it took me FOREVER to format that link and I only looked at the FAQ answer on how to do it on the millionth try.


	55. I Make an Oath I'll Keep With My Final Breath (Leo LV)

LEO THOUGHT HE’D BEEN BUSY BEFORE. When Calypso set her mind to something, she was a machine.

Within a day, she’d gathered enough supplies for a weeklong voyage—food, flasks of water, herbal medicines from her garden. She wove a sail big enough for a small yacht and made enough rope for all the rigging. She got so much done that by the second day she asked Leo if he needed any help with his own project.

He looked up from the circuit board that was slowly coming together. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone has a little hope that I can get off this island.”

Calypso made a face. “I am willing to try to help you find a way off the island,” she corrected. She was dressed for work in a pair of jeans and a grubby white T-shirt. When he asked her about the wardrobe change, she claimed she had realized how practical these clothes were after making some for Leo.

In the blue jeans, she didn’t look much like a goddess. Her T-shirt was covered with grass and dirt stains, like she’d just run through a swirling Gaea. Her feet were bare. Her cinnamon-toast hair was tied back, which made her almond eyes look even larger and more startling. Her hands were calloused and blistered from working with rope.

Looking at her, Leo felt a tugging in his stomach that he couldn’t quite explain.

“So?” she prompted.

“So… what?”

She nodded at the circuitry. “So can I help? How is it coming on?”

“Oh, uh, I’m good here. I guess. If I can wire this thing up to the boat, I should be able to navigate back to the world.”

“Now all you need is a boat.”

He tried to read her expression. He wasn’t sure if she was annoyed that he was still here or wistful that she wasn’t leaving too. Then he looked at all the supplies she’d stacked up—easily enough for two people for several days.

“What Gaea said…” He hesitated. “About you getting off this island. Would you want to try it?”

She scowled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if we can get me off this island in a not-the-normal way, we could get you off this island too,” Leo said. “I’m not saying it would be fun having you along, and unless you want to go off on your own, you’d be stuck on the  _ Argo II _ with all us demigods, but if you wanted to try it, you could.”

Her expression softened just a little.

“How noble,” she muttered. “But no, Leo. If I tried to come with you, your tiny chance of escape would be no chance at all. The gods have placed ancient magic on this island to keep me here. A hero can leave. I cannot. The most important thing is getting you free so you can stop Gaea. The world’s fate is at stake.”

“Why would you care about that?” he asked. “I mean, after being away from the world for so long?”

She arched her eyebrows, as if surprised that he’d asked a sensible question. “I suppose I don’t like being told what to do—by Gaea or anyone else. As much as I hate the gods sometimes, over the past three millennia I’ve come to see that they’re better than the Titans. They’re definitely better than the giants. At least the gods kept in touch. Hermes has always been kind to me. And your father, Hephaestus, has often visited. He is a good person.”

Leo wasn’t sure what to make of her faraway tone. She almost sounded like she was pondering his worth, not his dad’s.

She reached out and closed his mouth. He hadn’t realized it was hanging open.

“Now,” Calypso said, “how can I help?”

“Oh.” He stared down at his project, but when he spoke he blurted out an idea that had been forming ever since Calypso had made his new clothes. “You know that flameproof cloth? You think you could make me a little bag of that fabric?”

He described the dimensions. Calypso waved her hand impatiently. “That will only take minutes. Will it help on your quest?”

“Yeah. It might save a life. And, um, could you chip off a little piece of crystal from your cave? I don’t need much.”

She frowned. “That’s an odd request.”

“Humor me.”

“All right. Consider it done. I’ll make the fireproof pouch tonight at the loom, when I’ve cleaned up. But what can I do now, while my hands are dirty?”

She held up her calloused, grimy fingers. Leo couldn’t help thinking there was nothing hotter than a girl who didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. But of course that was just a general comment. Didn’t apply to Calypso. Obviously. Okay, yes, it did.

“Well,” he said, “you could twist some more bronze coils. But that’s kind of specialized—”

She pushed in next to him on the bench and began to work, her hands braiding the bronze wiring faster than he could have. “Just like weaving,” she said. “This isn’t so hard.”

“Huh,” Leo said. “Well, if you ever get off this island and want a job, let me know. You’re not a total klutz.”

She smirked. “A job, eh? Making things in your forge?”

“Nah, we could start our own shop,” Leo said, surprising himself. Starting a machine shop had always been one of his dreams, but he’d never told anyone about it. “Leo and Calypso’s Garage: Auto Repair and Mechanical Monsters.”

“Fresh fruits and vegetables,” Calypso offered.

“Lemonade and stew,” Leo added. “We could even provide entertainment. You could sing and I could, like, randomly burst into flames.”

Calypso laughed—a clear, happy sound that made Leo’s heart go  _ ka-bump. _

“See,” he said, “I’m funny.”

She managed to kill her smile. “You are not funny. Now, get back to work, or no lemonade and stew.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. They worked in silence, side by side, for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

Two nights later, the guidance console was finished.

Leo and Calypso sat on the beach, near the spot where Leo had destroyed the dining table, and they ate a picnic dinner together. The full moon turned the waves to silver. Their campfire sent orange sparks into the sky. Calypso wore a fresh white shirt and her jeans, which she’d apparently decided to live in.

Behind them in the dunes, the supplies were carefully packed and ready to go.

“All we need now is a boat,” Calypso said.

Leo nodded. He tried not to linger on the word we. Calypso had made it clear she wasn’t going.

“I can start chopping wood into boards tomorrow,” Leo said. “Few days, we’ll have enough for a small hull.”

“You’ve made a ship before,” Calypso remembered. “Your  _ Argo II.” _

Leo nodded. He thought about all those months he’d spent creating the  _ Argo II. _ Somehow, making a boat to sail from Ogygia seemed like a more daunting task.

“So how long until you sail?” Calypso’s tone was light, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

“Uh, not sure. Another week?”

For some reason, saying that made Leo feel less agitated. When he had got here, he couldn’t wait to leave. Now, he was glad he had a few more days. Weird.

Calypso ran her fingers across the completed circuit board. “This took so long to make.”

“You can’t rush perfection.”

A smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. “Yes, but will it work?”

“Getting out, no problem,” Leo said. “But to get back I’ll need Festus and—”

“What?”

Leo blinked. “Festus. My bronze dragon. Once I figure out how to rebuild him, I’ll—”

“You told me about Festus,” Calypso said. “But what do you mean get back?”

Leo grinned nervously. “Well… to get back here, duh. I’m sure I said that.”

“You most definitely did not.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here! After you helped me and everything? Of course I’m coming back. Once I rebuild Festus, he’ll be able to handle an improved guidance system. There’s this astrolabe that I, uh…” He stopped, deciding it was best not to mention that it had been built by one of Calypso’s old flames. “…that I found in Bologna. Anyway, I think with that crystal you gave me—”

“You can’t come back,” Calypso insisted.

Leo’s heart went  _ clunk. _ “Because I’m not welcome?”

“Because you can’t. It’s impossible. No man finds Ogygia twice. That is the rule. I  _ told _ you that.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, you might’ve noticed I’m not good at following rules. We’re breaking the rules now to get  _ me _ home. So I’m coming back here with my dragon, and we’ll spring you. Take you wherever you want to go. It’s only fair.”

“Fair…” Calypso’s voice was barely audible.

In the firelight, her eyes looked so sad, Leo couldn’t stand it. Did she think he was lying to her just to make her feel better? He considered it a given that he would come back and free her from this island. How could he not?

“You didn’t really think I could start Leo and Calypso’s Auto Repair without Calypso, did you?” he asked. “I can’t make lemonade and stew, and I sure can’t sing.”

She stared at the sand.

“Well, anyway,” Leo said, “tomorrow I’ll start on the lumber. And in a few days…”

He looked out over the water. Something was bobbing on the waves. Leo watched in disbelief as a large wooden raft floated in on the tide and slid to a stop on the beach.

Leo was too dazed to move, but Calypso sprang to her feet.

“Hurry!” She sprinted across the beach, grabbed some supply bags and ran them to the raft. “I don’t know how long it will stay!”

“But…” Leo stood. His legs felt like they’d turned to rock. He had just convinced himself he had another week on Ogygia. Now he didn’t have time to finish dinner. “That’s the magic raft?”

“Duh!” Calypso yelled. “It might work like it’s supposed to and take you where you want to go. But we can’t be sure. The island’s magic is obviously unstable. You must rig up your guidance device to navigate.”

She snatched up the console and ran towards the raft, which got Leo moving. He helped her fasten it to the raft and run wires to the small rudder in the back. The raft was already fitted with a mast, so Leo and Calypso hauled their sail aboard and started on the rigging.

They worked side by side in perfect harmony. Even among the Hephaestus campers, Leo had never worked with anyone as intuitive as this immortal gardener girl. In no time, they had the sail in place and all the supplies aboard. Leo hit the buttons on the Archimedes sphere, muttered a prayer to his dad, Hephaestus, and the Celestial bronze console hummed to life.

The rigging tightened. The sail turned. The raft began scraping against the sand, straining to reach the waves.

“Go,” Calypso said.

Leo turned. She was so close he couldn’t stand it. She smelled like cinnamon and wood smoke, and he thought he’d never smell anything that good again.

“The raft finally got here,” he said.

Calypso snorted. Her eyes might have been red, but it was hard to tell in the moonlight. “You just noticed?”

“But if it only shows up for guys you like—”

“Don’t push your luck, Leo Valdez,” she said.

“Okay.”

“And you are not coming back here,” she insisted. “So don’t give me any empty promises.”

“How about a full promise?” he said. “Because I’m definitely—”

She grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss, which effectively shut him up.

For all his joking and flirting, Leo had never kissed a girl before. Well, sisterly pecks on the cheek from Piper, but that didn’t count. This was a real, full-contact kiss. If Leo had had gears and wires in his brain, they would’ve short-circuited.

Calypso pushed him away. “That didn’t happen.”

“Okay.” His voice sounded an octave higher than usual.

“Get out of here.”

“Okay.”

She turned, wiping her eyes furiously, and stormed up the beach, the breeze tousling her hair. Leo wanted to call to her, but the sail caught the full force of the wind and the raft cleared the beach. He struggled to align the guidance console. By the time Leo looked back, the island of Ogygia was a dark line in the distance, their campfire pulsing like a tiny orange heart.

His lips still tingled from the kiss.

_ That didn’t happen, _ he told himself.  _ I can’t be in love with an immortal girl. She definitely can’t be in love with me. Not possible. _ He wondered if that’s what every mortal parent of a demigod thought when they found out they had a child with a god.

As his raft skimmed over the water, taking him back to the mortal world, he understood a line from the Prophecy better—an oath to keep with a final breath.

He understood how dangerous oaths could be. But Leo didn’t care.

“I’m coming back for you, Calypso,” he said to the night wind. "I swear it on the River Styx.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really have liked to have seen this repair shop dream in ToA. (actually, I can't remember if it happened or was hinted - I don't think it was.)


	56. We Go On an Exotic Destinations Tour to Tartarus (Annabeth LVI)

ANNABETH HAD NEVER BEEN SCARED OF THE DARK.

But normally the dark wasn’t forty feet tall. It didn’t have black wings, a whip made out of stars and a shadowy chariot pulled by vampire horses.

Nyx was almost too much to take in. Looming over the chasm, she was a churning figure of ash and smoke, as big as the Athena Parthenos statue, but very much alive. Her dress was void black, mixed with the colors of a space nebula, as if galaxies were being born in her bodice. Her face was hard to see except for the pinpoints of her eyes, which shone like quasars. When her wings beat, waves of darkness rolled over the cliffs, making Annabeth feel heavy and sleepy, her eyesight dim.

The goddess’s chariot was made of the same material as Nico di Angelo’s sword—Stygian iron—pulled by two massive horses, all black except for their pointed silver fangs. The beasts’ legs floated in the abyss, turning from solid to smoke as they moved. The horses snarled and bared their fangs at Annabeth. The goddess lashed her whip—a thin streak of stars like diamond barbs—and the horses reared back.

“No, Shade,” the goddess said. “Down, Shadow. These little prizes are not for you.”

Percy eyed the horses as they nickered. He was still shrouded in Death Mist, so he looked like an out-of-focus corpse. Obviously it wasn’t powerful enough to shroud them from powerful deities like Nyx though. Or the goddess had just been watching them since they approached Akhlys and just knew who they were despite the disguise.

“Uh, so you won’t let them eat us?” Percy asked the goddess. “They really want to eat us.” He looked at the horses. “I cleaned some stables for these flesh-eating horses once. They cousins of yours?”

Nyx’s quasar eyes burned. “Insolent boy. I would not let my horses eat you, any more than I would let Akhlys kill you. Such fine prizes, I will kill myself!”

“Oh, don’t kill yourself!” Annabeth cried. “We’re not that scary.”

The goddess lowered her whip. “What? No, I didn’t mean—”

“Well, I’d hope not!” Annabeth looked at Percy and forced a laugh.  _ Stick to the script, Annabeth, _ she told herself. “We wouldn’t want to scare her, would we?”

“Ha, ha,” Percy said weakly. “No, we wouldn’t.”

The vampire horses looked confused. They reared and snorted and knocked their dark heads together. Nyx pulled back on the reins.

“Do you know who I am?” she demanded.

“Well, you’re Night, I suppose,” said Annabeth. “I mean, I can tell because you’re dark and everything, though the brochure didn’t say much about you.”

Nyx’s eyes winked out for a moment. “What brochure?”

Annabeth patted her pockets. “We had one, didn’t we?”

Percy licked his lips. “Uh-huh.” He was still watching the horses, his hand tight on his sword hilt, but at least he was letting Annabeth do what she did best. Talk, trickery, delay.

“Anyway,” she said, “I guess the brochure didn’t say much because you weren’t spotlighted on the tour. We got to see the River Phlegethon, the Cocytus, the arai, the poison glade of Akhlys, even some random Titans and giants, but Nyx… hmm, no, you weren’t really featured.”

“Featured? Spotlighted?”

“Yeah,” Percy said. “We came down here for the Tartarus tour—like, exotic destinations, you know? The Underworld is overdone. Mount Olympus is a tourist trap—”

“Gods, totally!” Annabeth agreed. “So we booked the Tartarus excursion, but no one even mentioned we’d run into Nyx. Huh. Oh, well. Guess they didn’t think you were important.”

“Not important!” Nyx cracked her whip. Her horses bucked and snapped their silvery fangs. Waves of darkness rolled out of the chasm, turning Annabeth’s insides to jelly, but she couldn’t show her fear.

She pushed down Percy’s sword arm, forcing him to lower his weapon. This was a goddess beyond anything they had ever faced. Nyx was older than any Olympian or Titan or giant, older even than Gaea. She couldn’t be defeated by two demigods—at least not two demigods using force.

It was honestly quite astounding the number of enemies they had faced that Annabeth was able to talk to long enough to either glean some useful information or carefully plant a few words that could bring their enemies crumbling down.

Annabeth made herself look at the goddess’s massive dark face.

“Well, how many other demigods have come to see you on the tour?” she asked innocently.

Nyx’s hand went slack on the reins. “None. Not one. This is unacceptable!”

Annabeth shrugged. “Maybe it’s because you haven’t really done anything to get in the news. I mean, I can understand Tartarus being important! This whole place is named after him. Or if we could meet Day—”

“Oh, yeah,” Percy chimed in. “Day? She would be impressive. I’d totally want to meet her. Maybe get her autograph.”

“Day!” Nyx gripped the rail of her black chariot. The whole vehicle shuddered. “You mean Hemera? She is my daughter! Night is much more powerful than Day!”

“Eh,” said Annabeth. “I liked the arai, or even Akhlys better.”

“They are my children as well!”

Percy stifled a yawn. “Got a lot of children, huh?”

“I am the mother of all terrors!” Nyx cried. “The Fates themselves! Hecate! Old Age! Pain! Sleep! Death! And all of the curses! Behold how newsworthy I am!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I'm lining up for the Tartarus tour to see Nyx when Disney opens its Underworld theme park or whatever.
> 
> Seriously though, I'm way more excited than I should be for a theme park/rides that probably won't be built for YEARS. Tunnel Ride-O-Love with automaton spiders? 3D simulation Labyrinth ride? Festus? (Big Banana ride if MC rights go to Disney?) I'm sooooooo ready for some cool rides. Even if I'll be in my late 20s probably when some of them start opening and late 30s by the time they're all done assuming that happens after fifteen seasons of the Greek-Roman book tv shows. But it's FINE! I'll still go when I'm a hundred years old. Although if it takes that long to get a theme park or rides I'll be really disappointed in Disney.


	57. Nyx's Children Involuntarily Help Us Escape (Annabeth LVII)

NYX LASHED HER WHIP AGAIN. The darkness congealed around her. On either side, an army of shadows appeared—more dark-winged arai, which Annabeth was not thrilled to see; a withered man who must have been Geras, the god of old age; and a younger woman in a black toga, her eyes gleaming and her smile like a serial killer’s—no doubt Eris, the goddess of strife. More kept appearing: dozens of demons and minor gods, each one the spawn of Night.

Annabeth wanted to run. She was facing a brood of horrors that could snap anyone’s sanity. But if she ran she would die.

_ Just a little longer, _ she said to herself.  _ Just a little more talking and they’ll take care of the rest. _

Next to her, Percy’s breathing turned shallow. Even through his misty ghoul disguise, Annabeth could tell he was on the verge of panic. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“Yeah, not bad,” she admitted, hoping her voice sounded indifferent. “I guess we could get one picture for the scrapbook, but I don’t know. You guys are so… dark. Even if I used a flash, I’m not sure it would come out.”

“Y-yeah,” Percy managed. “You guys aren’t photogenic.”

“You—miserable—tourists!” Nyx hissed. “How dare you not tremble before me! How dare you not whimper and beg for my autograph and a picture for your scrapbook! You want newsworthy? My son Hypnos once put Zeus to sleep! When Zeus pursued him across the earth, bent on vengeance, Hypnos hid in my palace for safety, and Zeus did not follow. Even the king of Olympus fears me!”

“Uh-huh.” Annabeth turned to Percy. “Well, it’s getting late. We should probably get lunch at one of those restaurants the tour guide recommended. Then we can find the Doors of Death.”

“Aha!” Nyx cried in triumph. Her brood of shadows stirred and echoed: _ “Aha! Aha!” _

“You wish to see the Doors of Death?” Nyx asked. “They lie at the very heart of Tartarus. Mortals such as you could never reach them, except through the halls of my palace—the Mansion of Night!” She gestured behind her. Floating in the abyss, maybe three hundred feet below, was a doorway of black marble, leading into some sort of large room.

Annabeth’s heart pounded so strongly she felt it in her toes. That was the way forward—but it was so far down, an impossible jump. If they missed, they would fall into Chaos and be scattered into nothingness—a final death with no do-over. She knew they  _ could _ do it. And maybe that was worse. The pressure was all on them to do exactly what they did last time with no screw ups.

Somehow, she managed a bored sigh. “I suppose we could do one picture, but a group shot won’t work. Nyx, how about one of you with your favourite child? Which one is that?”

The brood rustled. Dozens of horrible glowing eyes turned towards Nyx.

The goddess shifted uncomfortably, as if her chariot were heating up under her feet. Her shadow horses huffed and pawed at the void.

“My favourite child?” she asked. “All my children are terrifying!”

Percy snorted. “Seriously? I’ve met the Fates. I’ve met Thanatos. They weren’t so scary. You’ve got to have somebody in this crowd who’s worse than that.”

“The darkest,” Annabeth said. “The most like you.”

“I am the darkest,” hissed Eris. “Wars and strife! I have caused all manner of death!”

“I am darker still!” snarled Geras. “I dim the eyes and addle the brain. Every mortal fears old age!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Annabeth said, trying to ignore her chattering teeth. “I’m not seeing enough dark. I mean, you’re the children of Night! Show me dark!”

The horde of arai wailed, flapping their leathery wings and stirring up clouds of blackness. Geras spread his withered hands and dimmed the entire abyss. Eris breathed a shadowy spray of buckshot across the void.

“I am the darkest!” hissed one of the demons.

“No, I!”

“No! Behold my darkness!”

If a thousand giant octopuses had squirted ink at the same time, at the bottom of the deepest, most sunless ocean trench, it could not have been blacker. Annabeth might as well have been blind. She gripped Percy’s hand and steeled her nerves.

“Wait!” Nyx called, suddenly panicked. “I can’t see anything.”

“Yes!” shouted one of her children proudly. “I did that!”

“No, I did!”

“Fool, it was me!”

Dozens of voices argued in the darkness.

The horses whinnied in alarm.

“Stop it!” Nyx yelled. “Whose foot is that?”

“Eris is hitting me!” cried someone. “Mother, tell her to stop hitting me!”

“I did not!” yelled Eris. “Ouch!”

The sounds of scuffling got louder. If possible, the darkness became even deeper. Annabeth’s eyes dilated so much, they felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets.

“Well, this is it,” Annabeth muttered. “You ready?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said yes?” Percy asked.

“No, probably not.”

“Somebody give me light!” Nyx screamed. “Gah! I can’t believe I just said that!”

“It’s a trick!” Eris yelled. “The demigods are escaping!”

“I’ve got them,” screamed an arai.

“No, that’s my neck!” Geras gagged.

“Jump!” Annabeth told Percy.

They leaped into the darkness, aiming for the doorway far, far below.


	58. We Take a Quick Jog Through the Mansion of Night (Annabeth LVIII)

AS SOON AS HER FEET HIT SOLID FLOOR, Annabeth took off running. Pain shot up her legs with every step, but she didn’t stop. She and Percy had to get out of there.

Above them in the dark, Nyx and her children scuffled and yelled, “I’ve got them! My foot! Stop it!”

Annabeth kept running. She couldn’t see anyway, so she closed her eyes. She used her other senses—listening for the echo of open spaces, feeling for cross-breezes against her face, sniffing for any scent of danger—smoke or poison or the stench of demons. Just because they’d gotten through without a problem the first time was no reason to expect there wouldn’t be one this time.

The squabbling sounds of Nyx’s children got further away. That was good. Percy was still running at her side, holding her hand. Also good.

In the distance ahead of them, Annabeth began to hear a throbbing sound, like her own heartbeat echoing back, amplified so powerfully the floor vibrated underfoot. The sound filled her with dread, so she figured it must be the right way to go. She ran towards it.

As the beat got louder, she smelled smoke and heard the flickering of torches on either side. She guessed there would be light, but a crawling sensation across her neck warned her it would be a mistake to open her eyes.

“Don’t look,” she reminded Percy.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said. “You can lead us out?”

“I think so. Just stop me when we reach the river.”

“You got it.”

The throbbing got louder still, sending vibrations straight up Annabeth’s spine. It felt like someone was knocking on the bottom of the world, demanding to be let in. She sensed the walls opening up on either side of them. The air smelled fresher—or at least not quite as sulphurous. There was another sound, too, closer than the deep pulsing… the sound of flowing water.

Annabeth’s heart raced. She knew the exit was close. Which meant the river was close. She really didn’t want to chance falling in, but all her instincts were screaming at her to get out of the Mansion of Night. She would have to trust Percy wouldn’t let her fall in.

She began to run faster. Until Percy yanked her back.


	59. Please Don't Call Me Murderer (Annabeth LIX)

“ANNABETH!” PERCY PULLED HER BACK just as her foot hit the edge of a drop. She almost pitched forward into what she knew was the River Acheron, but Percy grabbed her and wrapped her in his arms.

“It’s okay,” he promised.

She pressed her face into his shirt and kept her eyes closed tight. She was trembling, but not just from fear. Percy’s embrace was so warm and comforting she wanted to stay there forever, safe and protected… but that wasn’t reality. She couldn’t afford to relax. She couldn’t lean on Percy any more than she had to. He needed her, too.

“Thanks…” She gently disentangled herself from his arms.

“What? You think I’d let you fall in?”

Annabeth smiled even though Percy couldn’t see it. “Not in a million years. You have my complete and utter trust.”

“If Alex was here, she’d ask what was up with you Chase’s and your random love confessions,” Percy said.

“Then ask for popcorn to watch our Greek family drama.” Annabeth shook her head fondly. She opened her mouth to say something, but the roaring current of the Acheron drowned her out. Within the roaring current, thousands of voices cried out—shrieking in agony, pleading for mercy.

_ Help!  _ they groaned. _ It was an accident! _

_ The pain! _ their voices wailed.  _ Make it stop! _

Annabeth didn’t need her eyes to imagine the river—a black briny current filled with tortured souls being swept deeper and deeper into Tartarus. It was the River of Pain. The ultimate punishment for the souls of the damned—murderers, especially.

_ Murderers like you, _ the river reminded her.

_ Join us, _ another voice whispered.  _ You are no better than we are. _

Annabeth’s head was flooded with images of all the monsters she’d killed over the years.

_ That wasn’t murder,  _ she protested. _ I was defending myself! _

She was certain of that much. A monster’s job was to kill demigods, and a demigod’s job was to kill monsters. By no means did she actively seek monsters out—she hadn’t wanted to do that since she was a twelve year old girl who just wanted to prove herself—but if she saw a monster, she made sure it couldn’t harm anyone else. At least not for a few years.

The river changed course through her mind—showing her Zoë Nightshade, who Annabeth had known would die if she went on the quest to save Artemis and Alex. She saw Nico’s sister, Bianca di Angelo, dying in the collapse of the metal giant Talos because Annabeth had let her too go on a quest she was doomed to die on. Lee Fletcher, whom Annabeth could have—should have—done something to warn him of his coming death. The faces of the demigods who had died in the Battle of Manhattan.

_ You could have prevented it, _ the river told Annabeth.  _ You should have seen a better way. _

Most painful of all: Luke Castellan. Annabeth remembered Luke’s blood on her dagger after he’d sacrificed himself to stop Kronos from destroying Olympus.

_ His blood is on your hands! _ the river wailed.  _ There should have been another way! _

The thing about that was that the voices were right. For two years, Annabeth had known Luke would give his body to host Kronos. She knew that if he did this, she would have to make the choice to start the chain of events in the throne room of Olympus that would result in Luke’s death. She should have tried harder to stop it. She could have done something more.

Luke’s death should have been preventable. Annabeth had done nothing to spot it.

_ You murdered him!  _ the river cried.  _ Jump in and share his punishment! _

Percy gripped her arm. “Don’t listen.”

“But—”

“I know.” His voice sounded as brittle as ice. “They’re telling me the same stuff, I think. But we need to get out of here. We have to jump now.”

“Luke,” Annabeth choked. “My fault.”

“No,” Percy said firmly. “It’s not your fault anymore than it is mine. We tried, Annabeth. Remember we tried. Luke made his choice. It had to be this way.”

“There!” cried a voice behind them. “Kill the ungrateful tourists!”

The children of Nyx had found them. Annabeth wrapped her arms around Percy’s neck. “Go!”

Percy leaped with more strength than she would have thought possible. Maybe it was because of the Achilles Curse. They sailed through the air as the river churned and wailed below them, splashing Annabeth’s bare ankles with stinging brine.

Then— _ CLUMP. _ They were on solid ground again.

“You can open your eyes,” Percy said, breathing hard. “But you won’t like what you see.”

Annabeth blinked. After the darkness of Nyx, even the dim red glow of Tartarus seemed blinding.

Before them stretched a valley big enough to hold the San Francisco Bay. The booming noise came from the entire landscape, as if thunder were echoing from beneath the ground. Under poisonous clouds, the rolling terrain glistened purple with dark red and blue scar lines.

“It looks like…” Annabeth fought down her revulsion. “Like a giant heart.”

“The heart of Tartarus,” Percy murmured. He shuddered. “Let’s not think about that anymore.”

The center of the valley was covered with a fine black fuzz of peppery dots. They were so far away, it took Annabeth a moment to realize she was looking at an army—thousands, maybe tens of thousands of monsters, gathered around a central pinpoint of darkness. It was too far to see any details, but Annabeth had no doubt what the pinpoint was. Even from the edge of the valley, Annabeth could feel its power tugging at her soul.

“The Doors of Death.”

“Yeah.” Percy’s voice was hoarse. He still had the pale, wasted complexion of a corpse… which meant he looked about as good as Annabeth felt.

She turned. They’d landed several hundred yards from the banks of Acheron, which flowed through a channel cut into black volcanic hills. Beyond that was nothing but darkness. No sign of anyone coming after them. Apparently even the minions of Night didn’t like to cross the Acheron.

There was a skittering of a rockslide in the hills to their left. She drew her drakon-bone sword. Percy raised Riptide.

A patch of glowing white hair appeared over the ridge, then a familiar grinning face with pure silver eyes.

“Bob?” Annabeth was so happy she actually jumped. “Oh my gods!”

“Friends!” The Titan lumbered towards them. The bristles of his broom had been burned off. His janitor’s uniform was slashed with new claw marks, but he looked delighted. On his shoulder, Small Bob the kitten purred almost as loudly as the pulsing heart of Tartarus.

“I found you!” Bob gathered them both in a rib-crushing hug. “You look like smoking dead people. That is good!”

“Urf,” Percy said. “How did you get here? You didn’t go through the Mansion of Night.”

“No, no.” Bob shook his head adamantly. “That place is too scary. Another way—only good for Titans and such.”

“Let me guess,” Annabeth said. “You went sideways.”

Bob scratched his chin, evidently at a loss for words. “Hmm. No. More… diagonal.”

Annabeth laughed. Here they were at the heart of Tartarus, facing an impossible army—she would take any comfort she could get. She was ridiculously glad to have Bob the Titan with them again. She kissed his immortal nose, which made him blink.

“We stay together now?” he asked.

Her smile faded. “Yes,” she said. “We stay together now.”  _ Until we send you through the Doors of Death, _ she added silently.

They wouldn’t tell Bob that yet. Not until the last second.

“Doors of Death,” she said, “here we come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh, it looks like there's still so many chapters left, but really it's like... ten more days of chapters after this? Super excited for that. I feel like every time I start getting close to the end I do this, but I really, really love finishing up a story and starting the new one. And I'm really excited to start Blood of Olympus because I think it's got the most new stuff or most changed stuff due to obviously Bianca and Allegra's impromptu mission to head to Epirus and Magnus and Alex being with the crew and the plot ot free Bob and Damasen... It's going to be great, guys!


	60. I Start to Understand a Little More (Jason LX)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor Tower of Nero spoilers. Like I've said before (I think I've said before) it's nothing plot central, just minor tidbits from the book.

JASON WASN’T SURE WHAT TO HOPE FOR: storm or fire.

As he waited for his daily audience with the lord of the South Wind, he tried to decide which of the god’s personalities, Roman or Greek, was worse. But after five days in the palace he was only certain about one thing: he and his crew were unlikely to get out of here alive.

It wasn’t like Nico was any help either. Ever since they’d landed in the South Wind’s court, he’d been holed up in his cabin doing… something. Hazel had tried asking Nico what he was doing, but the son of Hades had refused to say anything other than it was “Important information for the completion of the quest.” Jason took that to mean he was trying to figure out how to escape the South Wind. Maybe this hadn’t happened the first time.

Except it  _ had _ happened. The only reason Jason knew that was because of his dreams. Notus, the South Wind’s Greek persona, had been in his dreams about the  _ other _ Jason’s life.

_ “You cannot control your parentage, but you can choose your legacy.” _

That was what Notus said. For days, Jason had been trying to figure out what that meant. How could he use that to find a way to leave the South Wind’s court? He hadn’t figured it out yet, and was hoping Nico would emerge from his cabin so he could ask him.

Jason leaned against the balcony rail. The air was so hot and dry it sucked the moisture right out of his lungs. Over the last week, his skin had got darker. His hair had turned as white as corn silk. Whenever he glanced in the mirror, he was startled by the wild, empty look in his eyes, as if he’d gone blind wandering in the desert.

A hundred feet below, the bay glittered against a crescent of red sand beach. They were somewhere on the northern coast of Africa. That’s as much as the wind spirits would tell him.

The palace itself stretched out on either side of him—a honeycomb of halls and tunnels, balconies, colonnades and cavernous rooms carved into the sandstone cliffs, all designed for the wind to blow through and make as much noise as possible. The constant pipe-organ sounds reminded Jason of the floating lair of Aeolus, back in Colorado, except here the winds seemed in no hurry.

Which was part of the problem.

On their best days, the southern  _ venti  _ were slow and lazy. On their worst days, they were gusty and angry. They’d initially welcomed the  _ Argo II, _ since any enemy of Boreas was a friend of the South Wind, but they seemed to have forgotten that the demigods were their guests. The  _ venti  _ had quickly lost interest in helping to repair the ship. Their king’s mood got worse every day.

Down at the dock, Jason’s friends were working on the  _ Argo II. _ The main sail had been repaired, the rigging replaced. Now they were mending the oars. Without Leo, none of them knew how to repair the more complicated parts of the ship, even with the help of Buford the table and Festus (who was now permanently activated thanks to Piper’s charmspeak—and none of them understood that). But they kept trying.

Magnus and Alex had decided to stick indoors after the disastrous encounter the first day when the  _ venti _ got agitated by the presence of the Norse demigods and had started to attack them until Jason rushed in and broke them up. He was sure that was also part of the reason the  _ venti _ were losing interest in helping repair the ship.

Hazel and Frank stood at the helm, tinkering with the controls. Piper relayed their commands to Coach Hedge, who was hanging over the side of the ship, banging out dents in the oars. Hedge was well suited for banging on things. They didn’t seem to be making much progress, but, considering what they’d been through, it was a miracle the ship was in one piece.

Jason shivered when he thought about Khione’s attack. He’d been rendered helpless—frozen solid not once but twice, while Leo was blasted into the sky and Piper was forced to save them all single-handedly.

Thank the gods for Piper. She considered herself a failure for not having stopped the wind bomb from exploding, but the truth was she’d saved the entire crew from becoming ice sculptures in Quebec. She’d also managed to direct the explosion of the icy sphere, so even though the ship had been pushed halfway across the Mediterranean, it had sustained relatively minor damage. She needed to give herself more credit. Piper McLean certainly wasn’t part of the Seven for her pretty face—even though it was quite pretty. She was here because she was a powerful and highly capable demigod.

Jason wished she could see herself like that.  _ The way  _ I _ see her, _ he thought bitterly.

Down at the dock, Hedge yelled, “Try it now!”

Hazel and Frank pulled some of the levers. The port oars went crazy, chopping up and down and doing the wave. Coach Hedge tried to dodge, but one smacked him in the rear and launched him into the air. He came down screaming and splashed into the bay.

Jason sighed. At this rate, they’d never be able to sail, even if the southern  _ venti  _ allowed them to. Somewhere in the north, Reyna was flying towards Epirus, assuming she’d got his note at Diocletian’s Palace. Leo was lost and in trouble. Percy and Annabeth… well, best-case scenario they were still alive, making their way to the Doors of Death. Jason couldn’t let them down.

A rustling sound made him turn. Nico di Angelo stood in the shadow of the nearest column. He’d shed his jacket. Now he just wore his black T-shirt and black jeans. His sword and the scepter of Diocletian hung on either side of his belt. His dark hair fell over his eyes. His face was still gaunt, but he was definitely in better shape than he had been when they’d rescued him from the giants in Rome. He had regained enough weight not to look starved. His arms were surprisingly taut with muscles, as if he’d spent the past week sword fighting. For all Jason knew, he’d been slipping off to practise raising spirits with Diocletian’s scepter, then sparring with them. After their expedition in Split, nothing would surprise him.

“Any word from the king?” Nico asked.

Jason shook his head. “Every day, he calls for me later and later.”

“We need to leave,” Nico said. “Soon.”

Jason threw his arms in the air. “I know! I’ve been trying to get him to help, but nothing works. Maybe if you  _ told _ me—”

“No,” Nico said, shaking his head. “I can’t. I don’t even really know what you did. But, Jason, they’re getting close to the Doors. We need to be there at the same time as they are.” He took a breath. “I’m sorry. I really wish I could help. And I know I’ve been shutting everyone out. I’m just busy working on something.”

“What is it?” Jason asked curiously.

Nico hesitated. “I can’t tell you. Not here. It’s just, Croatia reminded me how close we were to the end and now we’re here, and I just… I have to write some things down.”

“In case you don’t make it?”

“What? Why would you say that?”

Jason gave Nico what he was sure was a grimace. “Well, the way you worded that is ominous. Plus, what you said in Croatia and about this fix-it situation you’ve got going on… Well, you  _ were _ dating Will, right? And you still like him. But you’re trying to fix everything and maybe that might mean you never see him again.”

Nico stared out towards the  _ Argo II. _ “Maybe.”

“Does Will know?”

“That I love him? Yeah. He, uh, I guess I never mentioned him, but he also came back with us. So yeah. He knows.”

Jason frowned. “But you aren’t together. Why did you wait? Percy and Annabeth…” he faltered the way everyone did when the couple was mentioned.

“Percy and Annabeth,” Nico snapped, “are exactly that. They’re Percy and Annabeth. That’s who they are, Jason. But Will and I…” He sighed. “Look. I come with a lot of baggage. Will knows that and I’ve accepted that he wants to carry it with me. But we had something we were dealing with when we came back. The wonder couple didn’t. They were practically married.” A rueful smile crept up his face. “Plus, we were pretty young when this first happened. So… no dating yet.”

Jason glanced at Nico. “What was it? What you were dealing with.”

Nico shivered. He didn’t say anything.

“I know you and I were close,” Jason said. “I know we were friends. I also know I’m not that Jason, and it might be hard to open up to me, but I  _ do _ want to be your friend. I  _ am _ your friend.”

Jason was beginning to realize that as hard as it was on him and the rest of the crew, it was even harder on the time travelers. They had left their lives behind to change the past and in doing so, they had lost some of their closest friends. The Jason the time travelers knew would never be the Jason that he would be.

“I know,” Nico said quietly. “I just… I’m broken, Jason. I was broken a long time ago. This trip to Tartarus… it didn’t help matters.”

“You aren’t broken,” Jason told Nico.

Nico scoffed. “Yeah, I am. I was born in 1928 and I was stuck in a magic hotel for seventy years until my dad brought my sister and I out so she could be the child of the prophecy. That failed because Bianca died. I was eleven. Then I ran away and spent months living in the Labyrinth or on the streets with only the ghost of an evil king to keep me company. I was in love with a guy I couldn’t have and I based my everything around him. I fought a war when I was thirteen. I was forced to keep the camps a secret from each other. Even when Percy didn’t have his memories, he still belonged to Annabeth, so I went to Tartarus to escape and I got captured. Cupid  _ outed me _ in front of you. I shadow traveled the Athena Parthenos back to New York and I almost faded into the shadows multiple times along that journey. Will helped me for a while, but all I did was suppress the bad stuff. Then you died and I… I didn’t handle it well at all. I started…” he hesitated. “Well, I had to talk with Mr. D a lot. And I was meeting with these creatures that Will didn’t approve of. And then we got a prophecy about… Well, it doesn’t matter now. The point is, we left a lot of things unsaid. We have to fix that first. It’s like starting over.” He was silent for a while.

“You asked about me writing things down because I think I’m going to die,” Nico said suddenly. “I’m writing things down because I won’t be here with you guys much longer. Once we meet Reyna, I’m going to shadow travel her and the statue to Camp. Magnus and Alex don’t know what’s going on like I do.”

“But Percy and Annabeth do. And you said we were going to save them,” Jason pointed out.

Nico gave him a sad look. “Last time we did. This time could be different. We need to be prepared.”

Jason got the feeling Nico wasn’t being entirely truthful.

“Um, how are you?” Nico asked awkwardly, changing the subject. “I wasn’t doing great after Cupid last time, and… unrequited love… I get it.”

Jason shrugged indifferently, though his chest constricted. “Not much different than before. The only difference is I finally admitted it to myself. I can’t just keep telling myself we’re trying friends because it’s been months and if Piper wanted something more… she would have said by now.”

Behind them, the doors of the throne room blasted open with a gust of scorching air.

A disembodied voice said:  _ Lord Auster will see you now. _

Great. Just the mindset he wanted before heading in to meet with a god. Lovestruck teenager. Perfect.

“Good luck,” Nico said before stepping back into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Nico and Jason bonding for ya.


	61. I Make a Choice (Jason LXI)

SO IT WAS A STORM DAY. Auster, the Roman version of the South Wind, was holding court.

The two previous days, Jason had dealt with Notus. While the god’s Greek version was fiery and quick to anger, at least he was quick. Auster… well, not so much.

White and red marble columns lined the throne room. The rough sandstone floor smoked under Jason’s shoes. Steam hung in the air, like the bathhouse back at Camp Jupiter, except bathhouses usually didn’t have thunderstorms crackling across the ceiling, lighting the room in disorienting flashes.

Southern  _ venti  _ swirled through the hall in clouds of red dust and superheated air. Jason was careful to stay away from them. On his first day here, he’d brushed his hand through one trying to keep them away from Magnus and Alex. He’d got so many blisters his fingers looked like tentacles.

At the end of the room was the strangest throne Jason had ever seen—made of equal parts fire and water. The dais was a bonfire. Flames and smoke curled up to form a seat. The back of the chair was a churning storm cloud. The armrests sizzled where moisture met fire. It didn’t look very comfortable, but the god Auster lounged on it like he was ready for an easy afternoon of watching football.

Standing up, he would have been about ten feet tall. A crown of steam wreathed his shaggy white hair. His beard was made of clouds, constantly popping with lightning and raining down on the god’s chest, soaking his sand-colored toga. Jason wondered if you could shave a thundercloud beard. He thought it might be annoying to rain on yourself all the time, but Auster didn’t seem to care. He reminded Jason of a soggy Santa Claus, but more lazy than jolly.

“So…” The god’s voice rumbled like an oncoming front. “The son of Jupiter returns.”

Auster made it sound like Jason was late. Jason was tempted to remind the stupid wind god that he had spent hours outside every day waiting to be called, but he just bowed.

“My lord,” he said. “Have you received any news of my friend?”

“Friend?”

“Leo Valdez.” Jason tried to stay patient. “The one who was taken by the winds.”

“Oh… yes. Or rather, no. We have had no word. He was not taken by my winds. No doubt this was the work of Boreas or his spawn.”

“Uh, yes. We knew that.”

“That is the only reason I took you in, of course.” Auster’s eyebrows rose into his wreath of steam. “Boreas must be opposed! The north winds must be driven back!”

“Yes, my lord. But to oppose Boreas we really need to get our ship out of the harbour.”

“Ship in the harbour!” The god leaned back and chuckled, rain pouring out of his beard. “You know the last time mortal ships came into my harbour? A king of Libya… Psyollos was his name. He blamed me for the scorching winds that burned his crops. Can you believe it?”

Jason gritted his teeth. He’d learned that Auster couldn’t be rushed. In his rainy form, he was sluggish and warm and random.

“And did you burn those crops, my lord?”

“Of course!” Auster smiled good-naturedly. “But what did Psyollos expect, planting crops at the edge of the Sahara? The fool launched his entire fleet against me. He intended to destroy my stronghold so the south wind could never blow again. I destroyed his fleet, of course.”

“Of course.”

Auster narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t with Psyollos, are you?”

“No, Lord Auster. I’m Jason Grace, son of—”

“Jupiter! Yes, of course. I like sons of Jupiter. But why are you still in my harbour?”

Jason suppressed a sigh. “We don’t have your permission to leave, my lord. Also, our ship is damaged. We need our mechanic, Leo Valdez, to repair the engine, unless you know of another way.”

“Hmm.” Auster held up his fingers and let a dust devil swirl between them like a baton. “You know, people accuse me of being fickle. Some days I am the scorching wind, the destroyer of crops, the sirocco from Africa! Other days I am gentle, heralding the warm summer rains and cooling fogs of the southern Mediterranean. And in the off-season I have a lovely place in Cancun! At any rate, in ancient times, mortals both feared me and loved me. For a god, unpredictability can be a strength.”

“Then you are truly strong,” Jason said.

“Thank you! Yes! But the same is not true of demigods.” Auster leaned forward, close enough so that Jason could smell rain-soaked fields and hot sandy beaches. “You remind me of my own children, Jason Grace. You have blown from place to place. You are undecided. You change day to day. If you could turn the wind sock, which way would it blow?”

Sweat trickled between Jason’s shoulder blades. “Excuse me?”

“You say you need a navigator. You need my permission. I say you need neither. It is time to choose a direction. A wind that blows aimlessly is of no use to anyone.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

Even as he said it, he did understand.

For months, Jason had been wrestling with the question of where he belonged. He’d always chafed against the traditions of Camp Jupiter, the power plays, the infighting. But Reyna was a good person. She needed his help. If he turned his back on her… someone like Octavian could take over and ruin everything Jason did love about New Rome. Could he be so selfish as to leave? The very idea crushed him with guilt.

It would be easier to just return to Camp Jupiter after this was all over. He had a place in the legion. He could put his focus on being a praetor. Leo and Piper could certainly visit him, and he could visit them.

But in his heart he wanted to be at Camp Half-Blood. The months he’d spent there with Piper and Leo had felt more satisfying, more right than all his years at Camp Jupiter. Besides, at Camp Half-Blood, there was at least a chance he might meet his father some day. The gods hardly ever stopped by Camp Jupiter to say hello.

Nico’s words rang in his ears.  _ Don’t base your life on the future’s past. Tell her how you feel if you want. It doesn’t matter what used to be. What does matter is that you do what you need to be happy. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that happiness isn’t just in the having. It’s in just being. It’s in just saying. I told you about Percy and I felt better. I told Percy and Annabeth how I felt and I felt free for the first time in a long time. I started to let myself feel happy. Because everyone deserves to be happy. _

He was right. In more ways than one. If Jason kept waiting around for what he wanted, it wasn’t going to happen. And it wasn’t going to make him feel better. He couldn’t just keep everything bottled up inside himself. Nico learned that the hard way. Everyone deserved to find happiness. Nico deserved it, and so did Jason. And maybe that wasn’t going to be in line with what Jason wanted. But something he  _ did _ want—something that was completely possible—that was something he could get right now.

Jason took a shaky breath. “Yes. I know the direction I want to take.”

“Good! And?”

“Uh, we still need a way to fix the ship. Is there—?”

Auster raised an index finger. “Still expecting guidance from the wind lords? A son of Jupiter should know better.”

Jason hesitated. “We’re leaving, Lord Auster. Today.”

The wind god grinned and spread his hands. “At last, you announce your purpose! Then you have my permission to go, though you do not need it. And how will you sail without your engineer, without your engines fixed?”

Jason felt the south winds zipping around him, whinnying in challenge like headstrong mustangs, testing his will.

All week he had been waiting, hoping Auster would decide to help. For months he had worried about his obligations to Camp Jupiter, hoping his path would become clear. Now, he realized, he simply had to take what he wanted. He had to control the winds, not the other way around.

“You’re going to help us,” Jason said. “Your  _ venti  _ can take the form of horses. You’ll give us a team to pull the  _ Argo II. _ They’ll lead us to wherever Leo is.”

“Wonderful!” Auster beamed, his beard flashing with electricity. “Now… can you make good on those bold words? Can you control what you ask for, or will you be torn apart?”

The god clapped his hands. Winds swirled around his throne and took the form of horses. These weren’t dark and cold like Jason’s friend Tempest. The South Wind horses were made of fire, sand and hot thunderstorm. Four of them raced past, their heat singeing the hair off Jason’s arms. They galloped around the marble columns, spitting flames, neighing with a sound like sandblasters. The more they ran, they wilder they became. They started to eye Jason.

Auster stroked his rainy beard. “Do you know why the  _ venti  _ can appear as horses, my boy? Every so often, we wind gods travel the earth in equine form. On occasion, we’ve been known to sire the fastest of all horses.”

“Thanks,” Jason muttered, though his teeth were chattering with fear. “Too much information.”

One of the  _ venti  _ charged at Jason. He ducked aside, his clothes smoking from the close call.

“Sometimes,” Auster continued cheerfully, “mortals recognize our divine blood. They will say, _That horse runs like the wind._ And for good reason. Like the fastest stallions, the  _ venti  _ are our children!”

The wind horses began to circle Jason.

“Like my friend Tempest,” he ventured.

“Oh, well…” Auster scowled. “I fear that one is a child of Boreas. How you tamed him, I will never know. These are my own offspring, a fine team of southern winds. Control them, Jason Grace, and they will pull your ship from the harbor.”

_ Control them, _ Jason thought. _ Yeah, right. _

They ran back and forth, working up a frenzy. Like their master the South Wind, they were conflicted—half hot, dry sirocco, half stormy thunderhead.

_ I need speed, _ Jason thought. _ I need purpose. _

He envisioned Notus, the Greek version of the South Wind—blistering hot, but very fast.

In that moment, he chose Greek. He threw in his lot with Camp Half-Blood—and the horses changed. The storm clouds inside burned away, leaving nothing but red dust and shimmering heat, like mirages on the Sahara.

“Well done,” said the god.

On the throne now sat Notus—a bronze-skinned old man in a fiery Greek chiton, his head crowned with a wreath of withered, smoking barley.

“What are you waiting for?” the god prompted.

Jason turned towards the fiery wind steeds. Suddenly he wasn’t afraid of them.

He thrust out his hand. A swirl of dust shot towards the nearest horse. A lasso—a rope of wind, more tightly wound than any tornado—wrapped around the horse’s neck. The wind formed a halter and brought the beast to a stop.

Jason summoned another wind rope. He lashed a second horse, binding it to his will. In less than a minute, he had tethered all four venti. He reined them in, still whinnying and bucking, but they couldn’t break Jason’s ropes. It felt like flying four kites in a strong wind—hard, yes, but not impossible.

“Very good, Jason Grace,” Notus said. “You are a son of Jupiter, yet you have chosen your own path—as all the greatest demigods have done before you. You cannot control your parentage, but you can choose your legacy.”

A chill ran up Jason’s spine. This was it. This had been what his dream showed him.

“Now, go,” the god continued. “Lash your team to the prow and direct them towards Malta.”

“Malta?” Jason tried to focus, but the heat from the horses was making him light-headed. He knew nothing about Malta, except for some vague story about a Maltese falcon. Were malts invented there?

“Once you arrive in the city of Valletta,” Notus said, “you will no longer need these horses.”

“You mean… we’ll find Leo there?”

The god shimmered, slowly fading into waves of heat. “Your destiny grows clearer, Jason Grace. When the choice comes again—storm or fire—remember me. And do not despair.”

That had been in his dreams too. But Jason didn’t have time to dwell on that. The doors of the throne room burst open. The horses, smelling freedom, bolted for the exit.


	62. Did I Pass My Test? (Jason LXII)

AT SIXTEEN, MOST KIDS WOULD STRESS about parallel parking tests, getting a driver’s licence and affording a car.

Jason stressed about controlling a team of fiery horses with wind ropes.

After making sure his friends were aboard and safely below deck, he lashed the venti to the prow of the  _ Argo II  _ (which Festus was not happy about), straddled the figurehead and yelled, “Giddyup!”

The venti tore across the waves. They weren’t quite as fast as Hazel’s horse, Arion, but they had a lot more heat. They kicked up a rooster tail of steam that made it almost impossible for Jason to see where they were going. The ship shot out of the bay. In no time Africa was a hazy line on the horizon behind them.

Maintaining the wind ropes took all of Jason’s concentration. The horses strained to break free. Only his willpower kept them in check.

_ Malta, _ he ordered. _ Straight to Malta. _

By the time land finally appeared in the distance—a hilly island carpeted with low stone buildings—Jason was soaked in sweat. His arms felt rubbery, like he’d been holding a barbell straight out in front of him. He hoped they’d reached the right place, because he couldn’t keep the horses together any longer. He released the wind reins. The venti scattered into particles of sand and steam.

Exhausted, Jason climbed down from the prow. He leaned against Festus’s neck. The dragon turned and gave him a chin hug.

“Thanks, man,” Jason said. “Rough day, huh?”

Behind him, the deck boards creaked.

“Jason?” Piper called. “Oh, gods, your arms…”

He hadn’t noticed, but his skin was dotted with blisters.

Piper unwrapped a square of ambrosia. “Eat this.”

He chewed. His mouth was filled with the taste of fresh brownies—his favourite treat from the bakeries in New Rome. The blisters faded on his arms. His strength returned, but the brownie ambrosia tasted more bitter than usual, as if it somehow knew that Jason was turning his back on Camp Jupiter. This was no longer the taste of home.

He cleared his throat. “Um, thanks, Piper. How long was I—?”

“About six hours.”

_ Wow, _ Jason thought. No wonder he felt sore and hungry. “The others?”

“All fine. Tired of being cooped up. Should I tell them it’s safe to come above deck?”

Jason licked his dry lips. Despite the ambrosia, he felt shaky. He didn’t want the others to see him like this. But what Notus had said…

“Can you ask Nico to come here?”

Piper studied him like he’d asked for a sledgehammer. “Sure. I’m guessing you don’t want anyone else?”

“Please.”

She gave him one last look before heading below.

When Nico emerged seconds later, Jason slid down against the siding to sit on the ground.

“Piper said you wanted to see me?”

“Did you know I would have to pick?”

Nico didn’t say anything for a while. “I knew you’d have to pick Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter. I didn’t know how or why. Is that it?”

“Notus said when the time to choose storm or fire comes, I shouldn’t despair and I should remember him,” Jason said. He looked up at Nico. “What does that mean?”

“If I told you, it would cost us the war,” Nico said.

“You don’t know that.”

“But I do. I know what it means and I have been very tempted to try and stop it, but I can’t. I’m not sure if you’re aware how prophecies work, Jason. The prophecy of Seven is about the demigods who are going to defeat Gaea. It outlines how to defeat her. But it doesn’t guarantee that we  _ will _ defeat her. We can still fail and then years from now, some other unlucky group will have to finish what we couldn’t. If I stop Gaea falling to storm or fire, we lose.” Nico fixed Jason with a look. “So drop it. You can’t interpret a prophecy without it fighting back. So I’d like to minimize the changes to the meaning because nothing too bad actually happened the first time. Okay?”

Jason sighed. “Yeah. Okay.”

Festus blew a plume of fire. The ship’s engine clattered and hummed. It sounded like a massive bike with a busted chain—but they lurched forward.

Slowly, the  _ Argo II _ headed towards the shore.

“I’ll never understand what Piper did,” Nico muttered.

Jason nodded absently. Nico’s words should have been reassuring.  _ Nothing too bad actually happened the first time. _ But that didn’t stop Jason from thinking about what Notus said.

_ When the choice comes again, _ Notus had said, _ storm or fire—remember me. And do not despair. _

The closer they got to Greece, the more dread settled in Jason’s chest. He was starting to think Piper was right about the storm or fire line in the prophecy—one of them, Jason or Leo, would not come back from this voyage alive.

But according to Nico, Magnus, and Alex, both Jason and Leo had survived past the war. It didn’t make sense. 

_ Do not despair. _

Yeah. Easy for an immortal wind god to say.

As the island got closer, Jason saw docks bristling with sails. From the rocky shoreline rose fortress-like seawalls—fifty or sixty feet tall. Above that sprawled a mediaeval-looking city of church spires, domes and tightly wedged buildings, all made of the same golden stone. From where Jason stood, it looked as if the city covered every inch of the island.

He scanned the boats in the harbour. A hundred yards ahead, tied to the end of the longest dock, was a makeshift raft with a simple mast and a square canvas sail. On the back, the rudder was wired to some sort of machine. Even from this distance, Jason could see the glint of Celestial bronze.

Jason grinned. Only one demigod would make a boat like that, and he’d moored it as far out in the harbour as possible, where the  _ Argo II _ couldn’t fail to spot it.

“Get the others,” Jason told Nico. “Leo is here.”

“I could have told you that much,” Nico shot back. But he went below deck to get the others anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know you've been writing too much Riordanverse fanfiction when you're supposed to be writing Nick Carraway for your stupid essay that you definitely BS'd like the whole thing and you write Nico instead. Yeah, so... I caught myself typing Nico a bunch of times instead of Nick. Aaaaand I forgot to check the rest of my Nicks to make sure they weren't Nicos. So that's great.
> 
> But thank God I'm done with that class. Against the advice of the professor in the syllabus I definitely read (read: only the important parts like what book I was supposed to get and that's it), I didn't drop that class. Mostly because I needed the credits and there weren't any classes I was interested in taking. But also because I really didn't think it would be that bad. But I survived and I came out with a decent grade, so... it's a win for me.
> 
> Anyway, I know it's the season so... GOOD LUCK ON FINALS/MIDTERMS IF YOU'VE GOT THEM! You guys are going to do GREAT!


	63. Who Broke My Best Friend's Heart? (Jason LXIII)

THEY FOUND LEO at the top of the city fortifications. He was sitting at an open-air café, overlooking the sea, drinking a cup of coffee and dressed in… wow. Time warp. Leo’s outfit was identical to the one he’d worn the day they first arrived at Camp Half-Blood—jeans, a white shirt and an old army jacket. Except that jacket had burned up months ago.

Piper nearly knocked him out of his chair with a hug. “Leo! Gods, where have you been?”

“Valdez!” Coach Hedge grinned. Then he seemed to remember he had a reputation to protect and he forced a scowl. “You ever disappear like that again, you little punk, I’ll knock you into next month!”

Frank patted Leo on the back so hard it made him wince. Even Nico shook his hand.

Hazel kissed Leo on the cheek. “We thought you were dead!”

“I’ll kill you if you do this again,” Alex announced. “Then I’ll have Magnus resurrect you so I can kill you again.”

Magnus frowned. “I don’t think I can actually do that.”

Alex waved a hand. “Whatever. Sentiment’s there. And since you’ve been gone, it’s he and him today.”

Leo mustered a faint smile. “Hey, guys. He and him. Got it. Nah, nah, I’m good.”

Jason could tell he wasn’t good. Leo wouldn’t meet their eyes. His hands were perfectly still on the table. Leo’s hands were never still. All the nervous energy had drained right out of him, replaced by a kind of wistful sadness.

Jason wondered why his expression seemed familiar. Then he realized it was the same face he saw in the mirror. It was probably the way he looked after facing Cupid.

Leo was heartsick.

As the others grabbed chairs from the nearby tables, Jason leaned in and squeezed his friend’s shoulder.

“Hey, man,” he said, “what happened?”

Leo’s eyes swept around the group. The message was clear:  _ Not here. Not in front of everyone. _

“I got marooned,” Leo said. “Long story. How about you guys? What happened with Khione?”

Coach Hedge snorted. “What happened? Piper happened! I’m telling you, this girl has skills!”

“Coach…” Piper protested.

Hedge began retelling the story, but in his version Piper was a kung fu assassin and there were a lot more Boreads.

As the coach talked, Jason studied Leo with concern. This café had a perfect view of the harbour. Leo must have seen the  _ Argo II _ sail in. Yet he’d sat here drinking coffee—which he didn’t even like—waiting for them to find him. That wasn’t like Leo at all. The ship was the most important thing in his life. When he saw it coming to rescue him, Leo should have run down to the docks, whooping at the top of his lungs.

Coach Hedge was just describing how Piper had defeated Khione with a roundhouse kick when Piper interrupted.

“Coach!” she said. “It didn’t happen like that at all. I couldn’t have done anything without Festus.”

Leo raised his eyebrows. “But Festus was deactivated.”

“Um, about that,” Piper said. “I sort of woke him up.”

Piper explained her version of events—how she’d rebooted the metal dragon with charmspeak.

Leo tapped his fingers on the table, like some of his old energy was coming back.

“Shouldn’t be possible,” he murmured. “Unless the upgrades let him respond to voice commands. But if he’s permanently activated, that means the navigation system and the crystal…”

“Crystal?” Jason asked.

Leo flinched. “Um, nothing. Anyway, what happened after the wind bomb went off?”

Hazel took up the story. A waitress came over and offered them menus. In no time they were chowing down on sandwiches and sodas, enjoying the sunny day almost like a group of regular teenagers.

Frank grabbed a tourist brochure stuck under the napkin dispenser. He began to read it. Piper patted Leo’s arm, like she couldn’t believe he was really here. Nico stood at the edge of the group, eyeing the passing pedestrians as if they might be enemies. Coach Hedge munched on the salt and pepper shakers. Alex lounged carelessly in his chair and Magnus sat next to him listening to Hazel.

Despite the happy reunion, everybody seemed more subdued than usual—like they were picking up on Leo’s mood. Jason had never really considered how important Leo’s sense of humor was to the group. Even when things were super serious, they could always depend on Leo to lighten things up.

Now, it felt like the whole team had dropped anchor.

“So then Jason harnessed the  _ venti _ ,” Hazel finished. “And here we are.”

Leo whistled. “Hot-air horses? Dang, Jason. So, basically, you held a bunch of gas together all the way to Malta and then you let it loose.”

Jason frowned. “You know, it doesn’t sound so heroic when you put it that way.”

“Yeah, well. I’m an expert on hot air.” Leo looked at Magnus. “And what’s this about you praising Piper while you were slowly dying of hypothermia? Should Alex be jealous?”

Magnus sputtered. “Um, no way. No offense, but no.”

“It’s just a thing he does,” Alex shrugged. “Like when he’s facing down evil mothers or something and he just starts talking up his BFFs and randomly confessing that a kiss that happened the day before was the best thing that ever happened to him even though neither side of this kiss had ever actually acknowledged it until that moment.”

"That's oddly specific," Leo said.

Hazel blinked. “Is that—? Wait. That actually happened?”

Magnus turned a deep red. “That’s not fair. You’re the one who kissed me, told me you didn’t want to die without doing that, and then  _ ignored me _ after that.”

Alex’s cheeks were lightly dusted with pink. “Besides the point,” he said. “It’s just what Maggie does. Defeats the baddies with the power of friendship.”

“Well, it helped,” Piper said, giving Magnus a grateful smile. “Anyway, why Malta?”

Leo shrugged. “I just ended up here on the raft.”

“Maybe because of this.” Frank tapped his brochure. “Says here Malta was where Calypso lived.”

A pint of blood drained from Leo’s face. “W-what, now?”

Frank shrugged. “According to this, her original home was an island called Gozo just north of here. Calypso’s a Greek myth thingie, right?”

“Ah, a Greek myth thingie!” Coach Hedge rubbed his hands together. “Maybe we get to fight her! Do we get to fight her? ’Cause I’m ready.”

“No,” Leo murmured. “No, we don’t have to fight her, Coach.”

Piper frowned. “Leo, what’s wrong? You look—”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Leo shot to his feet. “Hey, we should get going. We’ve got work to do!”

“But… where did you go?” Hazel asked. “Where did you get those clothes? How—”

“Jeez, ladies!” Leo said. “I appreciate the concern, but I don’t need two extra moms!”

Piper smiled uncertainly. “Okay, but—”

“Ships to fix!” Leo said. “Festus to check! Earth goddesses to punch in the face! What are we waiting for? Leo’s back!” He spread his arms and grinned.

He was making a brave attempt, but Jason could see the sadness lingering in his eyes. Something had happened to him… something to do with Calypso.

Jason tried to remember the story about her. She was a sorceress of some sort, maybe like Medea or Circe. But, if Leo had escaped from an evil sorceress’s lair, why did he seem so sad? Jason would have to talk to him later, make sure his buddy was okay. For now Leo clearly didn’t want to be interrogated.

Jason got up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Leo’s right. We should get going.”

Everybody took the cue. They started wrapping up their food and finishing their drinks.

Suddenly, Hazel gasped. “Guys…”

She pointed to the northeast horizon. At first, Jason saw nothing but the sea. Then a streak of darkness shot into the air like black lightning—as if pure night had torn through the daytime.

“Holy falafel!” Magnus yelped.

Alex gave him a strange look.

“I don’t see anything,” Coach Hedge grumbled.

“Me neither,” Piper said.

Jason scanned his friends’ faces. Most of them just looked confused. Nico, Magnus, and Alex were the only other ones who seemed to have noticed the black lightning.

“What is that?” Alex asked.

Nico blinked. “You can see it?”

“The black lightning? Yeah, I can see it.”

The darkness flashed again, momentarily leaching the color from the horizon.

“It’s from Epirus,” Nico explained. “But only children of the Underworld, or returned spirits can see it.”

Returned spirits?

“But I’m not—”

“You died in the Wolf House,” Nico said. “Hera killed you, and Piper brought you back. Yeah, you’re a returned spirit.” He glanced at Magnus and Alex. “I guess einherjar count.”

Jason decided not to dwell on the returned spirit thing. His whole skeleton tingled, the way he felt when he got hit by a thousand volts.

“That’s Epirus?”

Nico nodded. “The House of Hades is open for business.”

A few seconds later, a rumbling sound washed over them like distant artillery.

“It’s begun,” Hazel said.

“What has?” Leo asked.

When the next flash happened, Hazel’s gold eyes darkened like foil in fire. “Gaea’s final push,” she said. “The Doors of Death are working overtime. Her forces are entering the mortal world en masse.”

“Great,” Magnus muttered. “We’ll have to fight a million monsters.”

Jason set his jaw. “We’ll defeat them. And we’ll make it there fast. We’ve got Leo back. He’ll give us the speed we need.” He turned to his friend. “Or is that just hot air?”

Leo managed a crooked grin. His eyes seemed to say:  _ Thanks. _

“Time to fly, boys and girls,” he said. “Uncle Leo’s still got a few tricks up his sleeves!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forget where I first got the idea for Jason being able to see the lightning because he did, in fact, die. I know it was someone's fanfic I read, but... It was a long time ago. But after that, I kinda just accepted it as the truth. I guess maybe because it's lightning, but Nico and Hazel could see it too, so I think it has something to do with the Underworld therefore children of the Underworld and returned spirits would be able to see it.


	64. No, I'm Pretty Sure Death is Close (Percy LXIV)

PERCY WASN’T DEAD YET, but he was already tired of being a corpse.

As they trudged towards the heart of Tartarus, he kept glancing down at his body, wondering how it could belong to him. His arms looked like bleached leather pulled over sticks. His skeletal legs seemed to dissolve into smoke with every step. He’d learned to move normally within the Death Mist, more or less, but the magical shroud still made him feel like he was wrapped in a coat of helium.

He wasn’t worried that the Death Mist would cling to him forever—but now that he thought that, he wouldn’t put it past the Fates to make that happen—he knew it wouldn’t last once he and Annabeth cut the chains on the Doors.

The Doors…

Sometime soon, the Doors of Death, the only guaranteed way home, would no longer be an option for him and Annabeth. The idea made him queasy. Still, he’d feel worse if he drew Bob into this mess knowing that Bob would be stuck down here forever. It wasn’t like it was guaranteed that Nico and Will would have been able to even find Bob down here let alone save him if they had been able to go on their quest.

Percy tried to focus on something else, but there was no safe direction to look.

Under his feet, the ground glistened a nauseating purple, pulsing with webs of veins. In the dim red light of the blood clouds, Death Mist Annabeth looked like a freshly risen zombie.

Ahead of them was the most depressing view of all.

Spread to the horizon was an army of monsters—flocks of winged arai, tribes of lumbering Cyclopes, clusters of floating evil spirits. Thousands of baddies, maybe tens of thousands, all milling restlessly, pressing against one another, growling and fighting for space—like the locker area of an overcrowded school between classes, if all the students were ’roid-raging mutants who smelled really bad.

Bob led them towards the edge of the army. He made no effort to hide, not that it would have done any good. Being ten feet tall and glowing silver, Bob didn’t do stealth very well.

About thirty yards from the nearest monsters, Bob turned to face Percy.

“Stay quiet and stay behind me,” he advised. “They will not notice you.”

On the Titan’s shoulder, Small Bob woke up from a nap. He purred seismically and arched his back, turning skeletal then back to calico. At least he didn’t seem nervous.

Percy stared at the swarm of vicious monsters. “Well, at least we won’t have to worry about bumping into any other friends in this crowd.”

Bob grinned. “Yes, that is good news! Now, let’s go. Death is close.”

“The _Doors_ of Death are close,” Annabeth corrected. “Let’s watch the phrasing.”

Percy didn’t bother telling her death was also probably very close.

They plunged into the crowd. Percy trembled so badly he was afraid the Death Mist would shake right off him. He’d seen large groups of monsters before. He’d fought an army of them during the Battle of Manhattan. But this was different. This moment was one that haunted his nightmares.

Whenever he’d fought monsters in the mortal world, Percy at least knew he was defending his home. That gave him courage, no matter how bad the odds were. Here, Percy was the invader. He didn’t belong in this multitude of monsters any more than the Minotaur belonged in Penn Station at rush hour.

A few feet away, a group of empousai tore into the carcass of a gryphon while other gryphons flew around them, squawking in outrage. A six-armed Earthborn and a Laistrygonian giant pummelled each other with rocks, though Percy wasn’t sure if they were fighting or just messing around. A dark wisp of smoke—Percy guessed it must be an eidolon—seeped into a Cyclops, made the monster hit himself in the face, then drifted off to possess another victim.

Annabeth whispered, “Percy, look.”

A stone’s throw away, a guy in a cowboy outfit was cracking a whip at some fire-breathing horses. The wrangler wore a Stetson hat on his greasy hair, an extra-large set of jeans and a pair of black leather boots. From the side, he might have passed for human—until he turned, and Percy saw that his upper body was split into three different chests, each one dressed in a different color Western shirt.

It was definitely Geryon, who had tried to kill Percy two years ago in Texas. Apparently the evil rancher was anxious to break in a new herd. The idea of that guy riding out of the Doors of Death made Percy’s sides hurt all over again. His ribs throbbed where the arai had unleashed Geryon’s dying curse back in the forest. He wanted to march up to the three-bodied rancher, smack him in the face and yell,  _ Thanks a lot, Tex! _

Sadly, he couldn’t.

How many ther old enemies were in this crowd? How many would Percy have to fight before he and Annabeth managed to find their way out of here?  _ Would _ they find their way out? Or would the monsters finally get to destroy the great Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase?

Every battle Percy had ever won had only been a temporary victory. No matter how strong or lucky he was, no matter how many monsters he destroyed, Percy would eventually fail. He could never rid the world of the monsters. It would just become some other demigod’s problem.

And that was what he had always found so terrifying about this moment. Even after leaving Tartarus, all he could see was monsters when he closed his eyes. The sheer number was dizzying. Percy could fight, but he would be no more than a minor annoyance to an army of this size.

If not for the demigods fighting generation after generation, these monsters could easily take over the world. The thought both inspired hope and hopelessness. Sure, both Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter would endure. They would keep fighting the monsters. But those same monsters would keep coming back in a never ending cycle.

One day—assuming they made it out of Tartarus alive—Percy and Annabeth’s sons or daughters would fight the Minotaur or even Kelli, just like their parents. It wasn’t fair.

Yet…

Percy couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the mental image of him and Annabeth fighting monsters while little babies armed with knives hacked at monsters too. It was ridiculous and probably enough to get Child Protective Services worried, but it was enough to improve his mood.

“What’s wrong?” Annabeth whispered.

With his zombie Death Mist disguise, Percy probably looked like he was grimacing in pain.

“Nothing,” he said. “I was just—”

Somewhere in front of them, a deep voice bellowed: “IAPETUS!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, but seriously. Cool Aunt Thalia and cool Uncle Nico would totally be the ones to teach Percy and Annabeth's toddlers how to shoot a bow and arrow and how to use a sword. Meanwhile Will, Jason, Hazel, and Frank are freaking out, Percy is the proud daddy, Piper doesn't know whether to laugh or help teach the kids, Annabeth is glaring at Thalia and Nico and trying not to let them see that she's actually proud of how well her kids are doing.


	65. Where Was Koios in the Last War? (Percy LXV)

A TITAN STRODE TOWARDS THEM, casually kicking lesser monsters out of his way. He was roughly the same height as Bob, with elaborate Stygian iron armour, a single diamond blazing in the centre of his breastplate. His eyes were blue-white, like core samples from a glacier and just as cold. His hair was the same color, cut military style. A battle helmet shaped like a bear’s head was tucked under his arm. From his belt hung a sword the size of a surfboard.

He’d only ever seen this Titan once before, and that was this time last timeline. Koios had not been part of the Titan war in either timeline for reasons Percy never found out. Hades had claimed that Koios was neutral and would not fight, however, he supported Kronos. Percy figured that was probably true considering the moment Koios chose to start fighting the gods was the moment he had  _ most _ of the Titans on his side as well as  _ all _ of the giants. He probably wanted a guaranteed victory.

The Titan stopped in front of Bob. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Iapetus! Don’t tell me you don’t recognize your own brother!”

“No!” Bob agreed nervously. “I won’t tell you that.”

The other Titan threw back his head and laughed. “I heard you were thrown into the Lethe. Must’ve been terrible! We all knew you would heal eventually. It’s Koios! Koios!”

“Of course,” Bob said. “Koios, Titan of…”

“The North!” Koios said.

“I know!” Bob shouted.

They laughed together and took turns hitting each other in the arm.

Apparently miffed by all the jostling, Small Bob crawled onto Bob’s head and began making a nest in the Titan’s silver hair.

“Poor old Iapetus,” said Koios. “They must have laid you low indeed. Look at you! A broom? A servant’s uniform? A cat in your hair? Truly, Hades must pay for these insults. Who was that demigod who took your memory? Bah! We must rip him to pieces, you and I, eh?”

“Ha-ha.” Bob swallowed. “Yes, indeed. Rip him to pieces.”

Percy felt like a disapproving parent. He didn’t think much of Bob’s brother, even without the rip him to pieces threat. Compared to Bob’s simple way of speaking, Koios sounded like he was reciting Shakespeare. That alone was enough to make Percy irritated. He  _ hated _ struggling through  _ Romeo and Juliet _ and  _ Twelfth Night _ for his English classes.

“Ah, it’s good to see you…” Koios drummed his fingers on his bear’s-head helmet. “You remember what fun we had in the old days?”

“Of course!” Bob chirped. “When we, uh…”

“Holding down our father Ouranos,” Koios said.

“Yes! We loved wrestling with Dad…”

“We restrained him.”

“That’s what I meant!”

“While Kronos cut him to pieces with his scythe.”

“Yes, ha-ha.” Bob looked mildly ill. “What fun.”

“You grabbed Father’s right foot, as I recall,” Koios said. “And Ouranos kicked you in the face as he struggled. How we used to tease you about that!”

“Silly me,” Bob agreed.

“Sadly, our brother Kronos was dissolved by those impudent demigods.” Koios heaved a sigh. “Bits and pieces of his essence remain, but nothing you could put together again. I suppose some injuries even Tartarus cannot heal.”

“Alas!”

The first time, Percy had been too busy worrying about Bob turning on them. Now that he knew—or at least was more confident—that Bob would not betray them, he could focus on what Koios said. If the Titan’s word was good, Kronos could never be put back together. At least not for many,  _ many _ millennia. He wasn’t naive enough to say forever. Undoubtedly someone would come along with the power to accomplish what Percy and his friends had given everything to defeat, but that wouldn’t be possible until long after even his great-grandkids were gone from the mortal world.

It was a small relief amidst the tragedy of the current war.

“But the rest of us have another chance to shine, eh?” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “These giants may think they will rule. Let them be our shock troops and destroy the Olympians—all well and good. But once the Earth Mother is awake she will remember that we are her eldest children. Mark my words. The Titans will yet rule the cosmos.”

“Hmm,” Bob said. “The giants may not like that.”

“Spit on what they like,” Koios said. “They’ve already passed through the Doors of Death, anyway, back to the mortal world. Polybotes was the last one, not half an hour ago, still grumbling about missing his prey. Apparently some demigods he was after got swallowed by Nyx. Never see them again, I wager!”

Perhaps that should have been the one thing they actually changed about the trip to the Doors of Death. Kill all the giants that should have  _ stayed _ dead like Polybotes and Enceladus.

“Well!” Koios drew his massive sword. The blade radiated a cold deeper than the Hubbard Glacier. “I must be off. Leto should have regenerated by now. I will convince her to fight.”

“Of course,” Bob murmured. “Leto.”

Koios laughed. “You’ve forgotten my daughter, as well? I suppose it’s been too long since you’ve seen her. The peaceful ones like her always take the longest to reform. This time, though, I’m sure Leto will fight for vengeance. The way Zeus treated her, after she bore him those fine twins? Outrageous!”

Percy wondered if Apollo knew his mom was in Tartarus.

“Well! I’ll see you in the mortal world!” Koios chest-bumped Bob, almost knocking the cat off his head. “Oh, and our two other brothers are guarding this side of the Doors, so you’ll see them soon enough!”

“I will?”

“Count on it!” Koios lumbered off, almost knocking over Percy and Annabeth as they scrambled out of his way.

Before the crowd of monsters could fill the empty space, Percy motioned for Bob to lean in.

“You okay, big guy?” Percy whispered.

Bob frowned. “I do not know. In all this—” he gestured around them “—what is the meaning of okay?”

_ Fair point, _ Percy thought.

Annabeth peered towards the Doors of Death, though the crowd of monsters blocked them from view. “There’s two more Titans guarding the Doors. That’s not good. We’re going to have to find a way to get past them.”

Percy looked at Bob. “Do you remember Koios?” he asked gently. “All that stuff he was talking about?”

Bob gripped his broom. “When he told it, I remembered. He handed me my past like… like a spear. But I do not know if I should take it. Is it still mine, if I do not want it?”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned the past few years, it’s that destiny is nothing more than the sum of our own choices,” Annabeth said. “You get to choose who you want to be. Take the parts of Bob you like and the parts of Iapetus’s past that you want to keep. Leave the rest.”

“Our choices shape the future,” Percy added. “The past doesn’t.”

“Future…” Bob mused. “That is a mortal concept. I am not meant to change, Percy Friend.” He gazed around him at the horde of monsters. “We are the same… forever.”

“If you were the same,” Percy said, “Annabeth and I would be dead already. Maybe we weren’t meant to be friends, but we are. You’ve been the best friend we could ask for.”

Bob’s silver eyes looked darker than usual. He held out his hand, and Small Bob the kitten jumped into it. The Titan rose to his full height. “Let us go, then, friends. Not much further.”

* * *

Stomping on Tartarus’s heart wasn’t nearly as much fun as it sounded. Especially not when Percy had already met the god once.

The purplish ground was slippery and constantly pulsing. It looked flat from a distance, but up close it was made of folds and ridges that got harder to navigate the further they walked. Gnarled lumps of red arteries and blue veins gave Percy some footholds when he had to climb, but the going was slow.

And, of course, the monsters were everywhere. Packs of hellhounds prowled the plains, baying and snarling and attacking any monster that dropped its guard.  _ Arai  _ wheeled overhead on leathery wings, making ghastly dark silhouettes in the poison clouds.

Percy stumbled. His hand touched a red artery, and a tingling sensation went up his arm. “There’s water in here,” he said. “Actual water.”

Bob grunted. “One of the five rivers. His blood.”

“Wait.” Annabeth stared at the bloodvessel. “Percy, the rivers!”

Percy frowned. “Uh, yes?”

“The Acheron leads from Epirus,” she said. “Which leaves four rivers. Bob, the rivers all come from the upper world, right? What happens to their powers there?”

Bob tilted his head. “I do not know. The rivers are the strongest the deeper into the Underworld you go. Perhaps they do not have power in the mortal world.”

Percy wasn’t following where Annabeth was going.

“So normal water coming from the mortal world would theoretically turn into one of the five rivers?”

Percy’s eyes widened. “The waterfall room! Annabeth, that’s brilliant.”

“I do not understand,” Bob said.

“That’s okay,” Percy said, smiling. “Don’t worry about it. We just figured out something that will help us with the Quest of Seven.”

Bob didn’t look convinced, but before he could argue jagged streaks of darkness tore through the air—like lightning, except pure black.

“The Doors,” Bob said. “Must be a large group going through.”

“Of course it is,” Percy muttered. “Hey, Bob? Not all the monsters go to the House of Hades, do they?”

Bob shrugged. “Perhaps some are sent elsewhere when they step through. The House of Hades is in the earth, yes? That is Gaea’s realm. She could send her minions wherever she wishes.”

“What about you?” Percy asked. “If you went through, could she control where you end up?”

Bob scratched his chin. “Bob is different.”

That was really reassuring. Percy wanted his friend to get out of this hell hole, but not at the expense of Gaea chucking him somewhere worse. He was tempted to call off the whole thing. It would be easier to just let Will and Nico come rescue Bob in a year rather than chance Gaea destroying him now.

But Bob  _ was _ different. Tartarus himself noticed that. That would be enough. It had to be enough.

Bob helped them over the top of another ridge. Suddenly the Doors of Death were in plain view—a freestanding rectangle of darkness at the top of the next heart-muscle hill, about a quarter mile away, surrounded by a horde of monsters so thick Percy could’ve walked on their heads all the way across.

The Doors were still too far away to make out much detail, but the Titans flanking either side were familiar enough. The one on the left wore shining golden armour that shimmered with heat.

“Hyperion,” Percy muttered. “That guy just won’t stay dead.”

The one on the right wore dark-blue armour, with ram horns curling from the sides of his helmet. Krios, the Titan that Jason had killed in the battle for Mount Tam.

“Bob’s other brothers,” Annabeth said. The Death Mist shimmered around her, temporarily turning her face into a grinning skull. “Bob, if you have to fight them, can you?”

Bob hefted his broom, like he was ready for a messy cleaning job. “We must hurry,” he said, which Percy noticed wasn’t really an answer. “Follow me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of important question. Bryce Lawrence. Is he a sociopath or a psychopath? (wow, major "Dumbledore: is he daft or is he dangerous" vibes from that) I've never really understood the difference between those two words. I tried looking it up, but still... not helpful. So what do y'all think?


	66. Bob Learns the Truth (Percy LXVI)

THE DOORS OF DEATH SEEMED LIKE A SLAP IN THE FACE. Framed in Stygian iron, the magical portal was a set of elevator doors—two panels of silver and black etched with art deco designs. Except for the fact that the colors were inverted, they looked exactly like the elevators in the Empire State Building, the entrance to Olympus.

Seeing them, Percy felt so homesick he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t just miss Mount Olympus. He missed everything he’d left behind: New York City, Camp Half-Blood, his mom and stepdad. Oh gods, his  _ sister _ who wasn’t even a thought yet. His eyes stung. He didn’t trust himself to talk.

The Doors of Death seemed like a personal insult, designed to remind him of everything he couldn’t have.

As he got over his initial shock, he noticed other details: the frost spreading from the base of the Doors, the purplish glow in the air around them and the chains that held them fast. Cords of black iron ran down either side of the frame, like rigging lines on a suspension bridge. They were tethered to hooks embedded in the fleshy ground. The two Titans, Krios and Hyperion, stood guard at the anchor points.

As Percy watched, the entire frame shuddered. Black lightning flashed into the sky. The chains shook, and the Titans planted their feet on the hooks to keep them secure. The Doors slid open, revealing the gilded interior of an elevator car.

Bob placed his hands on Percy and Annabeth’s shoulders. “Wait,” he cautioned.

Hyperion yelled to the surrounding crowd: “Group A-22! Hurry up, you sluggards!”

A dozen Cyclopes rushed forward, waving little red tickets and shouting excitedly. They shouldn’t have been able to fit inside those human-sized doors, but as the Cyclopes got close their bodies distorted and shrank, the Doors of Death sucking them inside.

The Titan Krios jabbed his thumb against the UP button on the elevator’s right side. The Doors slid closed. The frame shuddered again. Dark lightning faded.

“You must understand how it works,” Bob muttered. He addressed the kitten in his palm, maybe so the other monsters wouldn’t wonder who he was talking to. “Each time the Doors open, they try to teleport to a new location. Thanatos made them this way, so only he could find them. But now they are chained. The Doors cannot relocate.”

“We’ll cut the chains,” Annabeth said.

“Our camouflage will probably disappear if we do something aggressive, like cutting the chains,” Percy said. “Bob, you’ll have to distract them while Annabeth and I sneak around and cut the chains from behind.”

“Yes, fine,” Bob said. “But that is only one problem. Once you are inside the Doors, someone must stay outside to push the button and defend it.”

Percy and Annabeth exchanged a look.

“I guess now is a good time to tell you that we aren’t planning on taking the Doors,” Percy said.

Bob blinked. “Not taking the Doors?”

“Percy and I didn’t come here with the intention of leaving, Bob,” Annabeth said quietly. “We aren’t leaving each other, and… well, with you here, we figured we’d send  _ you _ up.”

“You are not going back?”

Percy shook his head. “We’re not going back. But you are. Annabeth will hold the button. Twelve minutes, right? I’ll defend her against the monsters. The Curse of Achilles is good for fighting a whole army by myself.”

Bob nodded “Twelve minutes is correct, but—”

“Then it’s settled,” Percy interrupted. “We cut the chains, you take them up, and the Doors reset. Thanatos can reclaim them. Death goes back to normal, and the monsters lose their shortcut to the mortal world. Gaea can’t use them anymore.”

“I can push the button,” Bob said sadly. “You can both escape.”

A mix of feelings churned in Percy’s gut—grief, sadness, gratitude and guilt thickening into emotional cement.

“Bob, we can’t ask you to do that,” Percy said. “We brought you here, now we have to get you out. You want to see the sky again and the stars and the sun. Do us a favor and make that happen? Annabeth and I already decided we’re staying. There’s going to be one last ride through the Doors. We want you to take it.”

“Please, Bob,” Annabeth added. “Tell the stars hello for us?”

Bob blinked back silvery tears. He straightened his back and nodded firmly. “I will go. I will say hello to the stars for you.”

“Nico—Nico will be there,” Percy choked out. “He’ll be on the other side with some friends of ours. He knows we aren’t coming back. At least not that way. There’s going to be monsters fighting them. Would you help them?”

“I will help Nico Friend,” Bob agreed.

“Good,” Percy said. He looked towards the Doors. “Let’s cut those chains.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, this was honestly so sad to write. But they want to send Bob up.


	67. Family Reunions are Hell. Literally (Percy LXVII)

“IAPETUS!” HYPERION BELLOWED. “Well, well. I thought you were hiding under a cleaning bucket somewhere.”

Bob lumbered forward, scowling. “I was not hiding.”

Percy crept towards the right side of the Doors. Annabeth sneaked towards the left. The Titans gave no sign of noticing them, but Percy took no chances. He kept Riptide in pen form. He crouched low, stepping as quietly as possible. The lesser monsters kept a respectful distance from the Titans, so there was enough empty space to maneuver around the Doors, but Percy was keenly aware of the snarling mob at his back.

They had decided to keep the plan the same as before. Annabeth would take Hyperion’s side, and Percy would take Krios’s side. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Krios was still pressing his thumb on the UP button as Bob faced his brethren.

Bob planted his spear and tried to look as fierce as possible with a kitten on his shoulder. “Hyperion and Krios. I remember you both.”

“Do you, Iapetus?” The golden Titan laughed, glancing at Krios to share the joke. “Well, that’s good to know! I heard Percy Jackson turned you into a brainwashed scullery maid. What did he rename you… Betty?”

“Bob,” snarled Bob.

“Well, it’s about time you showed up,  _ Bob. _ Krios and I have been stuck here for weeks—”

“Hours,” Krios corrected, his voice a deep rumble inside his helmet.

“Whatever!” Hyperion said. “It’s boring work, guarding these doors, shuffling monsters through at Gaea’s orders. Krios, what’s our next group, anyway?”

“Double Red,” said Krios.

Hyperion sighed. The flames glowed hotter across his shoulders. “Double Red. Why do we go from A-22 to Double Red? What kind of system is that?” He glared at Bob. “This is no job for me—the Lord of Light! Titan of the East! Master of Dawn! Why am I forced to wait in the darkness while the giants go into battle and get all the glory? Now, Krios I can understand—”

“I get all the worst assignments,” Krios muttered, his thumb still on the button.

“But me?” Hyperion said. “Ridiculous! This should be your job, Iapetus. Here, take my place for a while.”

Bob stared at the Doors, but his gaze was distant—lost in the past. “The four of us held down our father, Ouranos,” he remembered. “Koios and me and the two of you. Kronos promised us mastery of the four corners of the earth for helping with the murder.”

“Indeed,” Hyperion said. “And I was happy to do it! I would’ve wielded the scythe myself if I’d had the chance! But you, Bob… you were always conflicted about that killing, weren’t you? The soft Titan of the West, soft as the sunset! Why our parents named you the Piercer, I will never know. More like the Whimper.”

Percy reached the anchor hook. He uncapped his pen and Riptide grew to full length. Krios didn’t react. His attention was firmly fixed on Bob, who had just levelled the point of his spear at Hyperion’s chest.

“I can still pierce,” Bob said, his voice low and even. “You brag too much, Hyperion. You are bright and fiery, but Percy Jackson defeated you anyway. I hear you became a nice tree in Central Park.”

Hyperion’s eyes smouldered. “Careful, brother.”

“At least a janitor’s work is honest,” Bob said. “I clean up after others. I leave the palace better than I found it. But you… you do not care what messes you make. You followed Kronos blindly. Now you take orders from Gaea.”

“She is our mother!” Hyperion bellowed.

“She did not wake for our war on Olympus,” Bob recalled. “She favors her second brood, the giants.”

Krios grunted. “That’s true enough. The children of the pit.”

“Both of you hold your tongues!” Hyperion’s voice was tinged with fear. “You never know when he is listening.”

Percy knew that didn’t matter. Tartarus was  _ always  _ watching. He was watching Percy and Annabeth’s progress the whole time. No doubt he was watching this too.

The elevator dinged. All three Titans jumped.

Krios took his finger off the button and called out, “Double Red! Where is Double Red?”

Hordes of monsters stirred and jostled one another, but none of them came forward.

Krios heaved a sigh. “I told them to hang on to their tickets. Double Red! You’ll lose your place in the queue!”

Annabeth was in position, right behind Hyperion. She raised her drakon-bone sword over the base of the chains. In the fiery light of the Titan’s armour, her Death Mist disguise made her look like a burning ghoul. She held up three fingers, ready to countdown. They had to cut the chains before the next group tried to take the elevator, but they also had to make sure the Titans were as distracted as possible.

Hyperion muttered a curse. “Just wonderful. This will completely mess up our schedule.” He sneered at Bob. “Make your choice, brother. Fight us or help us. I don’t have time for your lectures.”

Bob glanced at Annabeth and Percy. He raised the point of his spear. “Very well. I will take guard duty. Which of you wants a break first?”

“Me, of course,” Hyperion said.

“Me!” Krios snapped. “I’ve been holding that button so long my thumb is going to fall off.”

“I’ve been standing here longer,” Hyperion grumbled. “You two guard the Doors while I go up to the mortal world. I have some Greek heroes to wreak vengeance upon!”

“Oh, no!” Krios complained. “That Roman boy is on his way to Epirus—the one who killed me on Mount Othrys. Got lucky, he did. Now it’s my turn.”

“Bah!” Hyperion drew his sword. “I’ll gut you first, Ram-head!”

Krios raised his own blade. “You can try, but I won’t be stuck in this stinking pit any longer!”

Annabeth let out a string of low curses in Ancient Greek, Latin, English, and Spanish. He figured that last one was courtesy of Alex.

Percy braced himself as a high-pitched whine pierced his ears, like the sound of an incoming rocket. Then an explosion rocked the hillside. A wave of heat knocked Percy backwards. Dark shrapnel ripped through Krios and Hyperion, shredding them as easily as wood in a chipper.

_ STINKING PIT.  _ A hollow voice rolled across the plains, shaking the warm fleshy ground.

Bob staggered to his feet. Somehow the explosion hadn’t touched him. He swept his spear in front of him, trying to locate the source of the voice. Small Bob the kitten crawled into his coveralls.

Annabeth had landed about twenty feet from the Doors. The Death Mist had evaporated from her body. A quick glance down at his own hands revealed Percy was no longer shrouded either.

_ TITANS, _ said the voice disdainfully. _ LESSER BEINGS. IMPERFECT AND WEAK. _

In front of the Doors of Death, the air darkened and solidified. The being who appeared was so massive, radiating such pure malevolence, that Percy wanted to crawl away and hide.

Instead, he forced his eyes to trace the god’s form, starting with his black iron boots, each one as large as a coffin. His legs were covered in dark greaves; his flesh all thick purple muscle, like the ground. His armoured skirt was made from thousands of blackened, twisted bones, woven together like chain links and clasped in place by a belt of interlocking monstrous arms.

On the surface of the warrior’s breastplate, murky faces appeared and submerged—giants, Cyclopes, gorgons and drakons—all pressing against the armour as if trying to get out. The warrior’s arms were bare—muscular, purple and glistening—his hands as large as crane scoops. Worst of all was his head: a helmet of twisted rock and metal with no particular shape—just jagged spikes and pulsing patches of magma. His entire face was a whirlpool—an inward spiral of darkness.

As Percy watched, the last particles of Titan essence from Hyperion and Krios were vacuumed into the warrior’s maw.

Somehow Percy found his voice. “Tartarus.”

The warrior made a sound like a mountain cracking in half: a roar or a laugh, Percy couldn’t be sure.

_ This form is only a small manifestation of my power,  _ said the god.  _ But it is enough to deal with you. I do not interfere lightly, little demigod. It is beneath me to deal with gnats such as yourself. _

“Uh…” Percy’s legs threatened to collapse under him. “Don’t… you know… go to any trouble.”

_ You have proven surprisingly resilient, _ Tartarus said.  _ You have come too far. I can no longer stand by and watch your progress. _

Tartarus spread his arms. Throughout the valley, thousands of monsters wailed and roared, clashing their weapons and bellowing in triumph. The Doors of Death shuddered in their chains.

_ Be honored, little demigods, _ said the god of the pit.  _ Even the Olympians were never worthy of my personal attention. But you will be destroyed by Tartarus himself! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Tartarus is back. Dun, dun, duh!


	68. Leo Does Not Burn Me to Death (Frank LXVIII)

FRANK WAS HOPING FOR FIREWORKS.

Or at least a big sign that read: WELCOME HOME!

More than three thousand years ago, his Greek ancestor—good old Periclymenus the shape-shifter—had sailed east with the Argonauts. Centuries later, Periclymenus’s descendants had served in the eastern Roman legions. Then, through a series of misadventures, the family had ended up in China, finally emigrating to Canada in the twentieth century. Now Frank was back in Greece, which meant that the Zhang family had completely circled the globe.

That seemed like cause for celebration, but the only welcoming committee was a flock of wild, hungry harpies who attacked the ship. Frank felt kind of bad as he shot them down with his bow. He kept thinking of Ella, their freakishly smart harpy friend from Portland. But these harpies weren’t Ella. They gladly would have chewed Frank’s face off. So he blasted them into clouds of dust and feathers.

The Greek landscape below was just as inhospitable. The hills were strewn with boulders and stunted cedars, all shimmering in the hazy air. The sun beat down as if trying to hammer the countryside into a Celestial bronze shield. Even from a hundred feet up, Frank could hear the drone of cicadas buzzing in the trees—a sleepy, otherworldly sound that made his eyes heavy. Even the duelling voices of the war gods inside his head seemed to have dozed off. They had hardly bothered Frank at all since the crew had crossed into Greece.

Sweat trickled down his neck. After being frozen below deck by that crazy snow goddess, Frank had thought he would never feel warm again, but now the back of his shirt was soaked.

“Hot and steamy!” Leo grinned at the helm. “Makes me homesick for Houston! What do you say, Hazel? All we need now are some giant mosquitoes, and it’ll feel just like the Gulf Coast!”

“Thanks a lot, Leo,” Hazel grumbled. “We’ll probably get attacked by Ancient Greek mosquito monsters now.”

Frank studied the two of them, quietly marvelling how the tension between them had disappeared. Whatever had happened to Leo during his five days of exile, it had changed him. He still joked around, but Frank sensed something different about him—like a ship with a new keel. Maybe you couldn’t see the keel, but you could tell it was there by the way the ship cut through the waves.

Leo didn’t seem so intent on teasing Frank. He chatted more easily with Hazel—not stealing those wistful, mooning glances that had always made Frank uncomfortable.

Hazel had diagnosed the problem privately to Frank: “He met someone.”

Frank was incredulous. “How? Where? How could you possibly know?”

Hazel smiled. “I just do.”

As if she were a child of Venus rather than Pluto. Frank didn’t get it.

Of course he was relieved that Leo wasn’t hitting on his girl, but Frank was also kind of worried about Leo. Sure, they’d had their differences, but after all they’d been through together Frank didn’t want to see Leo get his heart broken.

“Dudes, do you actually have those?” Alex asked, jarring Frank from his thoughts.

It was disturbing how eager Alex was to find out if these giant mosquito monsters existed. There were some days when Frank thought Alex would make a better child of a war god. Today was one of those days.

“No, we do not,” Nico answered. He pointed towards a glittering green river snaking through the hills a kilometer away. “There! Maneuver us that way. We’re getting close to the temple. Very close.”

As if to prove his point, black lightning ripped through the sky, leaving dark spots before Frank’s eyes and making the hairs on his arms stand up.

Jason strapped on his sword belt. “Everyone, arm yourself. Leo, get us close, but don’t land—no more contact with the ground than necessary. Piper, Hazel, get the mooring ropes.”

“On it!” Piper said.

Hazel gave Frank a peck on the cheek and ran to help.

“Frank,” Jason called, “get below and find Coach Hedge.”

“Yep!”

He climbed downstairs and headed for Hedge’s cabin. As he neared the door, he slowed down. He didn’t want to surprise the satyr with any loud noises. Coach Hedge had a habit of jumping into the gangway with his baseball bat if he thought attackers were on board. Frank had almost got his head taken off a couple of times on his way to the bathroom.

He raised his hand to knock. Then he realized the door was cracked open. He heard Coach Hedge talking inside.

“Come on, babe!” the satyr said. “You know it’s not like that!”

Frank froze. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he wasn’t sure what to do. Hazel had mentioned being worried about the coach. She’d insisted something was bothering him, but Frank hadn’t thought much of it until now.

He’d never heard the coach talk so gently. Usually the only sounds Frank heard from the coach’s cabin were sporting events on the TV, or the coach yelling, “Yeah! Get ’em!” as he watched his favourite martial arts movies. Frank was pretty sure the coach wouldn’t be calling Chuck Norris babe.

Another voice spoke—female, but barely audible, like it was coming from a long way away.

“I will,” Coach Hedge promised. “But, uh, we’re going into battle—” he cleared his throat “—and it may get ugly. You just stay safe. I’ll get back. Honest.”

Frank couldn’t stand it any more. He knocked loudly. “Hey, Coach?”

The talking stopped.

Frank counted to six. The door flew open.

Coach Hedge stood there scowling, his eyes bloodshot, like he’d been watching too much TV. He wore his usual baseball cap and gym shorts, with a leather cuirass over his shirt and a whistle hanging from his neck, maybe in case he wanted to call a foul against the monster armies.

“Zhang. What do you want?”

“Uh, we’re getting ready for battle. We need you above deck.”

The coach’s goatee quivered. “Yeah. Course you do.” He sounded strangely unexcited about the prospect of a fight.

“I didn’t mean to—I mean, I heard you talking,” Frank stammered. “Were you sending an Iris-message?”

Hedge looked like he might smack Frank in the face or at least blow the whistle really loud. Then his shoulders slumped. He heaved a sigh and turned inside, leaving Frank standing awkwardly in the doorway.

The coach plopped down on his berth. His cupped his chin in his hand and stared glumly around his cabin. The place looked like a college dorm room after a hurricane—the floor strewn with laundry (maybe for wearing, maybe for snacks; it was hard to tell with satyrs), DVDs and dirty dishes scattered around the TV on the dresser. Every time the ship tilted, a mismatched herd of sports equipment rolled across the floor—footballs, basketballs, baseballs and, for some reason, a single billiard ball. Tufts of goat hair floated through the air and collected under the furniture in clumps. Dust goats? Goat bunnies?

On the coach’s nightstand sat a bowl of water, a stack of golden drachmas, a flashlight and glass prism for making rainbows. The coach had obviously come prepared to make a lot of Iris-messages.

Frank remembered what Piper had told him about the coach’s cloud nymph girlfriend who worked for Piper’s dad. What was the girlfriend’s name… Melinda? Millicent? No, Mellie.

“Uh, is your girlfriend Mellie all right?” Frank ventured.

“None of your business!” the coach snapped.

“Okay.”

Hedge rolled his eyes. “Fine! If you must know—yes, I was talking to Mellie. But she’s not my girlfriend any more.”

“Oh…” Frank’s heart sank. “You broke up?”

“No, you dolt! We got married! She’s my wife!”

Frank would’ve been less stunned if the coach had smacked him. “Coach, that’s—that’s great! When—how—?”

“None of your business!” he yelled again.

“Um… all right.”

“End of May,” the coach said. “Just before the  _ Argo II _ sailed. We didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

Frank felt like the ship was tilting again, but it must have been just him. The herd of wild sports equipment stayed put against the far wall.

All this time the coach had been married? In spite of being a newlywed, he’d agreed to come on this quest. No wonder Hedge made so many calls back home. No wonder he was so cranky and belligerent.

Still… Frank sensed there was more going on. The coach’s tone during the Iris-message made it sound like they were discussing a problem.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Frank said. “But… is she okay?”

“It was a private conversation!”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“Fine! I’ll tell you.” Hedge plucked some fur off his thigh and let it float through the air. “She took a break from her job in L.A., went to Camp Half-Blood for the summer, because we figured—” His voice cracked. “We figured it would be safer. Now she’s stuck there, with the Romans about to attack. She’s… she’s pretty scared.”

Frank became very aware of the centurion badge on his shirt, the SPQR tattoo on his forearm.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “But, if she’s a cloud spirit, couldn’t she just… you know, float away?”

The coach curled his fingers around the grip of his baseball bat. “Normally, yeah. But see… she’s in a delicate condition. It wouldn’t be safe.”

“A delicate…” Frank’s eyes widened. “She’s going to have a baby? You’re going to be a dad?”

“Shout it a little louder,” Hedge grumbled. “I don’t think they heard you in Croatia.”

Frank couldn’t help grinning. “But, Coach, that’s awesome! A little baby satyr? Or maybe a nymph? You’ll be a fantastic dad.”

Frank wasn’t sure why he felt that way, considering the coach’s love of baseball bats and roundhouse kicks, but he was sure.

Coach Hedge scowled even deeper. “The war’s coming, Zhang. Nowhere is safe. I should be there for Mellie. If I gotta die somewhere—”

“Hey, nobody’s going to die,” Frank said.

Hedge met his eyes. Frank could tell the coach didn’t believe it. Honestly, Frank wasn’t sure  _ he _ believed himself. Aside from Jason’s prophetic visions of his own death months after the war ended, Nico had been very tight lipped about the subject and Frank hadn’t wanted to ask.

“Always had a soft spot for children of Ares,” Hedge muttered. “Or Mars—whichever. Maybe that’s why I’m not pulverizing you for asking so many questions.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“Fine, I’ll tell you!” Hedge sighed again. “Back when I was on my first assignment as a seeker, I was way out in Arizona. Brought in this kid named Clarisse.”

“Clarisse?”

“Sibling of yours,” Hedge said. “Ares kid. Violent. Rude. Lots of potential. Anyway, while I was out, I had this dream about my mom. She—she was a cloud nymph like Mellie. I dreamed she was in trouble and needed my help right away. But I said to myself,  _ Nah, it’s just a dream. Who would hurt a sweet old cloud nymph? Besides, I gotta get this half-blood to safety. _ So I finished my mission, brought Clarisse to Camp Half-Blood. Afterwards, I went looking for my mom. I was too late.”

Frank watched the tuft of goat hair settle on top of a basketball. “What happened to her?”

Hedge shrugged. “No idea. Never saw her again. Maybe if I’d been there for her, if I’d got back sooner…”

Frank wanted to say something comforting, but he wasn’t sure what. He had lost his mom in the war in Afghanistan, and he knew how empty the words I’m sorry could sound.

“You were doing your job,” Frank offered. “You saved a demigod’s life.”

Hedge grunted. “Now my wife and my unborn kid are in danger, halfway across the world, and I can’t do anything to help.”

“You are doing something,” Frank said. “We’re over here to stop the giants from waking Gaea. That’s the best way we can keep our friends safe.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose.”

“Look, I’m sure Nico would tell you anything you want to know about how it goes,” Frank offered. “He must know how the pregnancy went since he’d from the future. And he’d tell you if Mellie and the baby are okay.”

“Maybe.”

Frank wished he could do more to lift Hedge’s spirits, but this talk was making him worry about everyone he’d left behind. He wondered who was defending Camp Jupiter now that the legion had marched east, especially with all the monsters Gaea was unleashing from the Doors of Death. He worried about his friends in the Fifth Cohort and how they must be feeling as Octavian ordered them to march on Camp Half-Blood. Frank wanted to be back there, if only to stuff a teddy bear down the throat of that slimeball augur.

The ship listed forward. The herd of sports equipment rolled under the coach’s berth.

“We’re descending,” said Hedge. “We’d better get above.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, his voice hoarse.

“You’re a nosy Roman, Zhang.”

“But—”

“Come on,” Hedge said. “And not a word about this to the others, you blabbermouth.”

* * *

As the others made fast the aerial moorings, Leo grabbed Frank and Hazel by the arms. He dragged them to the aft ballista. “Okay, here’s the plan.”

Hazel narrowed her eyes. “I hate your plans.”

“I need that piece of magic firewood,” Leo said. “Snappy!”

Frank nearly choked on his own tongue. Hazel backed away, instinctively covering her coat pocket.

“Leo, you can’t—”

“I found a solution.” Leo turned to Frank. “It’s your call, big guy, but I can protect you.”

Frank thought about how many times he’d seen Leo’s fingers burst into flame. One false move, and Leo could incinerate the piece of tinder that controlled Frank’s life.

But for some reason Frank wasn’t terrified. Since facing down the cow monsters in Venice, Frank had barely thought about his fragile lifeline. Yes, the smallest bit of fire might kill him. But he’d also survived some impossible things and made his dad proud. Frank had decided that whatever his fate was, he wouldn’t worry about it. He would just do the best he could to help his friends.

Besides, Leo sounded serious. His eyes were still full of that weird melancholy, like he was in two places at once, but nothing about his expression indicated any kind of joke.

“Go ahead, Hazel,” Frank said.

“But…” Hazel took a deep breath. “Okay.” She took out the piece of firewood and handed it to Leo.

In Leo’s hands, it wasn’t much bigger than a screwdriver. The tinder was still charred on one side from where Frank had used it to burn through the icy chains that had imprisoned the god Thanatos in Alaska.

From a pocket of his tool belt, Leo produced a piece of white cloth. “Behold!”

Frank scowled. “A handkerchief?”

“A surrender flag?” Hazel guessed.

“No, unbelievers!” Leo said. “This is a pouch woven from seriously cool fabric—a gift from a friend of mine.”

Leo slipped the firewood into the pouch and pulled it closed with a tie of bronze thread.

“The drawstring was my idea,” Leo said proudly. “It took some work, lacing that into the fabric, but the pouch won’t open unless you want it to. The fabric breathes just like regular cloth, so the firewood isn’t any more sealed up than it would be in Hazel’s coat pocket.”

“Uh…” Hazel said. “How is that an improvement, then?”

“Hold this so I don’t give you a heart attack.” Leo tossed the pouch to Frank, who almost fumbled it.

Leo summoned a white-hot ball of fire into his right hand. He held his left forearm over the flames, grinning as they licked the sleeve of his jacket.

“See?” he said. “It doesn’t burn!”

Frank didn’t like to argue with a guy who was holding a ball of fire, but he said, “Uh… you’re immune to flames.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but I have to concentrate if I don’t want my clothes to burn. And I’m not concentrating, see? This is totally fireproof cloth. Which means your firewood won’t burn in that pouch.”

Hazel looked unconvinced. “How can you be sure?”

“Sheesh, tough audience.” Leo shut off the fire. “Guess there’s only one way to persuade you.” He held out his hand to Frank.

“Uh, no, no.” Frank backed off. Suddenly all those brave thoughts about accepting his fate seemed far away. “That’s okay, Leo. Thanks, but I—I can’t—”

“Man, you gotta trust me.”

Frank’s heart raced. Did he trust Leo? Well, sure… with an engine. With a practical joke. But with his life?

He remembered the day they had got stuck in the underground workshop in Rome. Gaea had promised they would die in that room. Leo had promised he would get Hazel and Frank out of the trap. And he’d done it.

Now Leo spoke with the same kind of confidence.

“Okay.” Frank handed Leo the pouch. “Try not to kill me.”

Leo’s hand blazed. The pouch didn’t blacken or burn.

Frank waited for something to go horribly wrong. He counted to twenty, but he was still alive. He felt as if a block of ice was melting just behind his sternum—a frozen chunk of fear he’d got so used to he didn’t even think about it until it was gone.

Leo extinguished his fire. He wriggled his eyebrows at Frank. “Who’s your best buddy?”

“Don’t answer that,” Hazel said. “But, Leo, that was amazing.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Leo agreed. “So who wants to take this newly ultra-safe piece of firewood?”

“I’ll keep it,” Frank said.

Hazel pursed her lips. She looked down, maybe so Frank wouldn’t see the hurt in her eyes. She’d protected that firewood for him through a lot of hard battles. It was a sign of trust between them, a symbol of their relationship.

“Hazel, it’s not about you,” Frank said, as gently as he could. “I can’t explain, but I—I have a feeling I’m going to need to step up when we’re in the House of Hades. I need to carry my own burden.”

Hazel’s golden eyes were full of concern. “I understand. I just… I worry.”

Leo tossed Frank the pouch. Frank tied it around his belt. He felt strange carrying his fatal weakness so openly, after months of keeping it hidden.

“And, Leo,” he said, “thanks.”

It seemed inadequate for the gift Leo had given him, but Leo grinned. “What are genius friends for?”

“Hey, guys!’ Piper called from the bow. “Better get over here. You need to see this.”

* * *

They’d found the source of the dark lightning.

The  _ Argo II _ hovered directly over the river. A few hundred meters away at the top of the nearest hill stood a cluster of ruins. They didn’t look like much—just some crumbling walls encircling the limestone shells of a few buildings—but, from somewhere within the ruins, tendrils of black ether curled into the sky, like a smoky squid peeking from its cave. As Frank watched, a bolt of dark energy ripped through the air, rocking the ship and sending a cold shockwave across the landscape.

“The Necromanteion,” Nico said. “The House of Hades.”

Magnus shuddered. “That name sounds ominous.”

“You’ve known it was called this for days,” Alex said, giving Magnus a weird look.

“Yeah, but hearing the name and  _ seeing _ the place is giving me the creeps.”

Nico glanced at Magnus. “You can stay up here while we go in. You and Alex weren’t here the first time and we managed. Plus, it’s bound to affect you negatively. Will, uh, Will Solace came to the Underworld with me once. Apparently living children of Apollo don’t react well to that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Magnus said, though his face was pale. “I’ll go.”

“When was this?” Alex asked.

“End of January 2011,” Nico said absently. “Dad invited us.” His face turned pink. “I mean, he invited me to bring friends. For my birthday.” He buried his now red face in his hands. “He tries to be a normal dad sometimes and it’s awkward.”

Frank figured there was more to the story than that, but he didn’t want to press Nico.

Piper thankfully changed the subject. “I feel vulnerable floating up here like this,” she said, hugging her arms. “Couldn’t we set down in the river.”

“I wouldn’t,” Hazel said. “That’s the River Acheron.”

Jason squinted in the sunlight. “I thought the Acheron was in the Underworld.”

“It is,” Hazel said. “But its headwaters are in the mortal world. That river below us? Eventually it flows underground, straight into the realm of Pluto—er, Hades. Landing a demigod ship on those waters—”

“Yeah, let’s stay up here,” Leo decided. “I don’t want any zombie water on my hull.”

Half a kilometer downstream, some fishing boats were puttering along. Frank guessed they didn’t know or care about the history of this river. Must be nice, being a regular mortal.

Next to Frank, Nico di Angelo raised the scepter of Diocletian. Its orb glowed with purple light, as if in sympathy with the dark storm. Roman relic or not, the scepter troubled Frank. If it really had the power to summon a legion of the dead—which it probably did… well, Frank wasn’t sure that was such a great idea.

Jason had once told him that the children of Mars had a similar ability. Supposedly, Frank could call on ghostly soldiers from the losing side of any war to serve him. He’d never had much luck with that power, probably because it freaked him out too much. He was worried he might become one of those ghosts if they lost this war—eternally doomed to pay for his failures, assuming there was anyone left to summon him.

“So, uh, Nico…” Frank gestured at the scepter. “I guess you already know how to use that thing?”

Nico sent Frank a creepy smile. “Yep.”

“Oh,” Frank said. “That’s… that’s good.”

“I won’t use it yet,” he said. “The Doors of Death are already working overtime bringing in Gaea’s monsters. Any more activity raising the dead and the Doors might shatter permanently, leaving a rip in the mortal world that can’t be closed.”

Coach Hedge grunted. “I hate rips in the world. Let’s go bust some monster heads.”

Frank looked at the satyr’s grim expression. Suddenly he had an idea. “Coach, you should stay on board, cover us with the ballistae.”

Hedge frowned. “Stay behind? Me? I’m your best soldier!”

“We might need air support,” Frank said. “Like we did in Rome. You saved our  _ braccae _ .”

He didn’t add:  _ Plus, I’d like you to get back to your wife and baby alive. _

Hedge apparently got the message. His scowl relaxed. Relief showed in his eyes.

“Well…” he grumbled, “I suppose somebody’s got to save your  _ braccae _ .”

Jason clapped the coach on the shoulder. Then he gave Frank an appreciative nod. “So that’s settled. Everybody else—let’s get to the ruins. Time to crash Gaea’s party.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I love "hades tries to be a good dad and nico feels awkward as hell about it". Canonically, I'm not sure if that b-day invite checks out, but let's pretend it does because FANFICTION!


	69. If Your Friends Jump Off a Cliff, Jump Off the Cliff. If They Drink Poison, Also Drink the Poison (Frank LXIX)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I have to say this since it should be fairly obvious, but contrary to what the title says DO NOT jump off a cliff if your friends are doing that and DO NOT drink poison if your friends are doing that. Rather, you should STOP THEM from doing said dangerous things.
> 
> So, uh, don't try this at home, kids.

DESPITE THE MIDDAY HEAT and the raging storm of death energy, a group of tourists was climbing over the ruins. Fortunately there weren’t many and they didn’t give the demigods a second look.

After the crowds in Rome, Frank had stopped worrying too much about getting noticed. If they could fly their warship into the Roman Colosseum with ballistae blazing and not even cause a traffic slowdown, he figured they could get away with anything.

Nico led the way. At the top of the hill, they climbed over an old retaining wall and down into an excavated trench. Finally they arrived at a stone doorway leading straight into the side of the hill. The death storm seemed to originate right above their heads. Looking up at the swirling tentacles of darkness, Frank felt like he was trapped at the bottom of a flushing toilet bowl. That really didn’t calm his nerves.

Nico faced the group. “From here, it gets tough.”

“Sweet," Leo said. “’Cause so far I’ve totally been pulling my punches.” His face fell. “Uh, how tough are we talking?”

Nico glanced at him. “If I told you, you’d probably turn back.”

Frank didn’t think anyone found that reassuring.

“Remember,” Nico said. “This is where pilgrims came to commune with dead ancestors. Underground, you may see things that are hard to look at, or hear voices trying to lead you astray in the tunnels. Frank, do you have the barley cakes?”

“What?” Frank had been thinking about his grandmother and his mom, wondering if they might appear to him. For the first time in days, the voices of Ares and Mars had started to argue again in the back of Frank’s mind, debating their favourite forms of violent death.

“I’ve got the cakes,” Hazel said. She pulled out the magical barley crackers they’d made from the grain Triptolemus had given them in Venice.

“Eat up,” Nico advised.

Frank chewed his cracker of death and tried not to gag. It reminded him of a cookie made with sawdust instead of sugar.

“Yum,” Piper said. Even the daughter of Aphrodite couldn’t avoid making a face.

Magnus and Alex were the only ones who didn’t have much of a problem.

“Do  _ not  _ tell me you enjoyed that,” Leo coughed.

Alex shrugged. “Didn’t enjoy it. But we’ve spent the better part of the last year surviving on whatever we could get our hands on or whatever my mother gave us,” he said.

“Okay.” Nico choked down the last of his barley. “That should protect us from the poison.”

“Poison?” Leo asked. “Did I miss the poison? ’Cause I love poison.”

“Soon enough,” Nico promised. “Just stick close together, and maybe we can avoid getting lost or going insane.”

On that happy note, Nico led them underground.

* * *

The tunnel spiralled gently downwards, the ceiling supported by white stone arches that reminded Frank of a whale’s rib cage.

As they walked, Hazel ran her hands along the masonry. “This wasn’t part of a temple,” she whispered. “This was… the basement for a manor house, built in later Greek times.”

Frank found it eerie how Hazel could tell so much about an underground place just by being there. He’d never known her to be mistaken.

“A manor house?” he asked. “Please don’t tell me we’re in the wrong place.”

“The House of Hades is below us,” Nico assured him. “But Hazel’s right, these upper levels are much newer. When the archaeologists first excavated this site, they thought they’d found the Necromanteion. Then they realized the ruins were too recent, so they decided it was the wrong spot. They were right the first time. They just didn’t dig deep enough.”

They turned a corner and stopped. In front of them, the tunnel ended in a huge block of stone.

“A cave-in?” Jason asked.

“A test,” Nico said. “Hazel, would you do the honors?”

Hazel stepped forward. She placed her hand on the rock, and the entire boulder crumbled to dust. The tunnel shuddered. Cracks spread across the ceiling. For a terrifying moment, Frank imagined they’d all be crushed under tons of earth—a disappointing way to die, after all they’d been through. Then the rumbling stopped. The dust settled.

“She’d be good to have when we get the Skofnung sword,” Alex murmured to Magnus.

Magnus snorted. “Or we could just… not get that sword?” Then: “Shut up, Jack, I know she’s probably very amazing, but I care more about Loki not getting free than I do about your need to flirt with every weapon known to man.”

Whatever that was about, Frank decided he didn’t want to know.

A set of stairs curved deeper into the earth, the barrelled ceiling held up by more repeating arches, closer together and carved from polished black stone. The descending arches made Frank feel dizzy, as if he were looking into an endlessly reflecting mirror. Painted on the walls were crude pictures of black cattle marching downwards.

“I really don’t like cows,” Piper muttered.

“Agreed,” Frank said.

“Those are the cattle of Hades,” Nico said. “It’s just a symbol of—”

“Look.” Frank pointed.

On the first step of the stairwell, a golden chalice gleamed. Frank was pretty sure it hadn’t been there a moment before. The cup was full of dark-green liquid.

“Hooray,” Leo said halfheartedly. “I suppose that’s our poison.”

Nico picked up the chalice. “We’re standing at the ancient entrance of the Necromanteion. Odysseus came here, and dozens of other heroes, seeking advice from the dead.”

“Did the dead advise them to leave immediately?” Leo asked.

“I would be fine with that,” Piper admitted.

Nico drank from the chalice, then offered it to Jason. “This is the part where I make a nice little speech about how much do you trust me, and probably confuse the Hades out of everyone else, but you know what I mean. Same speech applies, but, uh, different circumstances surrounding that trust thing. So, son of Jupiter. How much do you trust me?”

Frank wasn’t sure what Nico was talking about, but Jason didn’t hesitate. He took the cup and drank.

They passed it around, each taking a sip of poison. As he waited his turn, Frank tried to keep his legs from shaking and his gut from churning. He wondered what his grandmother would say if she could see him.

_ Stupid, Fai Zhang!  _ she would probably scold. _ If all your friends were drinking poison, would you do it too? _

Frank went last. The taste of the green liquid reminded him of spoiled apple juice. He drained the chalice. It turned to smoke in his hands.

Nico nodded, apparently satisfied. “Congratulations. Assuming the poison doesn’t kill us, we should be able to find our way through the Necromanteion's first level.”

“Just the first level?” Piper asked.

Nico turned to Hazel and gestured at the stairs. “After you, sister.”

* * *

In no time, Frank felt completely lost. The stairs split in three different directions. As soon as Hazel chose a path, the stairs split again. They wound their way through interconnecting tunnels and rough-hewn burial chambers that all looked the same—the walls carved with dusty niches that might once have held bodies. The arches over the doors were painted with black cows, white poplar trees and owls.

“I thought the owl was Athena’s symbol,” Jason murmured.

“The screech owl is one of Hades’s sacred animals,” Nico said. “Its cry is a bad omen.”

“This way.” Hazel pointed to a doorway that looked the same as all the others. “It’s the only one that won’t collapse on us.”

“Good choice, then,” Leo said.

Frank began to feel like he was leaving the world of the living. His skin tingled, and he wondered if it was a side effect of the poison. The pouch with his firewood seemed heavier on his belt. In the eerie glow of their magic weapons, his friends looked like flickering ghosts.

Cold air brushed against his face. In his mind, Ares and Mars had gone silent, but Frank thought he heard other voices whispering in the side corridors, beckoning him to veer off course, to come closer and listen to them speak.

Finally they reached an archway carved in the shape of human skulls—or maybe they were human skulls embedded in the rock. In the purple light of Diocletian’s scepter, the hollow eye sockets seemed to blink.

Frank almost hit the ceiling when Hazel put a hand on his arm.

“This is the entrance to the second level,” she said. “I’d better take a look.”

Frank hadn’t even realized that he’d moved in front of the doorway.

“Uh, yeah…” He made way for her.

Hazel traced her fingers across the carved skulls. “No traps on the doorway, but… something is strange here. My underground sense is—is fuzzy, like someone is working against me, hiding what’s ahead of us.”

“The sorceress that Hecate warned you about?” Jason guessed. “The one Leo saw in his dream? What was her name?”

Hazel chewed her lip. “It would be safer not to say her name. But stay alert. One thing I’m sure of: from this point on, the dead are stronger than the living.”

“Hey, do you think we’ll get stronger?” Alex tried. “Maggie and I used to be dead.”

Magnus shuddered. “God, I hope not.”

“I hope you didn’t just bring this Ancient Greek temple down on us with your invocation of the Christian God, you atheist Nose demigod.”

Leo blinked. “I don’t even think I can process that sentence right now, but if the dead are stronger here, I can’t wait. Let’s go.”

Frank wasn’t sure how Hazel knew that, but he believed her. The voices in the darkness seemed to whisper louder. He caught glimpses of movement in the shadows. From the way his friends’ eyes darted around, he guessed they were seeing things too.

“Where are the monsters?” he wondered aloud. “I thought Gaea had an army guarding the Doors.”

“Don’t know,” Jason said. His pale skin looked as green as the poison from the chalice. “At this point I’d almost prefer a straight-up fight.”

“Careful what you wish for, man.” Leo summoned a ball of fire to his hand, and for once Frank was glad to see the flames. “Personally, I’m hoping nobody’s home. We walk in, find Percy and Annabeth, destroy the Doors of Death and walk out. Maybe stop at the gift shop.”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “That’ll happen.”

The tunnel shook. Rubble rained down from the ceiling.

Hazel grabbed Frank’s hand. “That was close,” she muttered. “These passageways won’t take much more.”

“The Doors of Death just opened again,” Nico said.

“It’s happening like every fifteen minutes,” Piper noted.

“Every twelve,” Nico corrected. “The Doors are complicated. It takes twelve minutes to ride up to the mortal world. We have to hurry. Percy and Annabeth are close. I can sense it.”

As they travelled deeper, the corridors widened. The ceilings rose to six meters high, decorated with elaborate paintings of owls in the branches of white poplars. The extra space should have made Frank feel better, but all he could think about was the tactical situation. The tunnels were big enough to accommodate large monsters, even giants. There were blind corners everywhere, perfect for ambushes. Their group could be flanked or surrounded easily. They would have no good options for retreat.

All of Frank’s instincts told him to get out of these tunnels. If no monsters were visible, that just meant they were hiding, waiting to spring a trap. Even though Frank knew that, there wasn’t much he could do about it. They had to find the Doors of Death.

Leo held his fire close to the walls. Frank saw Ancient Greek graffiti scratched into the stone. He couldn’t read Ancient Greek, but he guessed they were prayers or supplications to the dead, written by pilgrims thousands of years ago. The tunnel floor was littered with ceramic shards and silver coins.

“Offerings?” Piper guessed.

“Yes,” Nico said. “If you wanted your ancestors to appear, you had to make an offering.”

“Let’s not make an offering,” Jason suggested.

Nobody argued.

“The tunnel from here is unstable,” Hazel warned. “The floor might… well, just follow me. Step exactly where I step.”

She made her way forward. Frank walked right behind her—not because he felt particularly brave but because he wanted to be close if Hazel needed his help. The voices of the war gods were arguing again in his ears. He could sense danger—very close now.

_ Fai Zhang. _

He stopped cold. That voice… it wasn’t Ares or Mars. It seemed to come from right next to him, like someone whispering in his ear.

“Frank?” Jason whispered behind him. “Hazel, hold up a second. Frank, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Frank murmured. “I just—”

_ Pylos, _ the voice said. _ I await you in Pylos. _

Frank felt like the poison was bubbling back up his throat. He’d been scared plenty of times before. He’d even faced the god of Death.

But this voice terrified him in a different way. It resonated right down to his bones, as if it knew everything about him—his curse, his history, his future.

His grandmother had always been big on honoring the ancestors. It was a Chinese thing. You had to appease ghosts. You had to take them seriously.

Frank had always thought his grandmother’s superstitions were silly. Now he changed his mind. He had no doubt… the voice that spoke to him was one of his ancestors.

“Frank, don’t move.” Hazel sounded alarmed.

He looked down and realized he’d been about to step out of line.

_ To survive, you must lead, _ the voice said.  _ At the break, you must take charge. _

“Lead where?” he asked aloud.

Then the voice was gone. Frank could feel its absence, as if the humidity had suddenly dropped.

“Uh, big guy?” Leo said. “Could you not freak out on us? Please and thank you.”

“Leo, shut up,” Nico snapped. He gave Frank a look that wasn’t quite concern, but more like carefully studying him. “You good?”

The rest of Frank’s friends were all looking at him with concern.

“I’m okay,” he managed. “Just… a voice.”

Nico nodded. “I did warn you. It’ll only get worse. We should—”

Hazel held up her hand for silence. “Wait here, everybody.”

Frank didn’t like it, but she forged ahead alone. He counted to twenty-three before she came back, her face drawn and pensive.

“Scary room ahead,” she warned. “Don’t panic.”

“Those two things don’t go together,” Leo murmured. But they followed Hazel into the cavern.

The place was like a circular cathedral, with a ceiling so high it was lost in the gloom. Dozens of other tunnels led off in different directions, each echoing with ghostly voices. The thing that made Frank nervous was the floor. It was a gruesome mosaic of bones and gems—human femurs, hip bones and ribs twisted and fused together into a smooth surface, dotted with diamonds and rubies. The bones formed patterns, like skeletal contortionists tumbling together, curling to protect the precious stones—a dance of death and riches.

“Touch nothing,” Hazel said.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Leo muttered.

“Seriously,” Magnus said. His face was very pale now and the way the light and shadows hit his face reminded Frank of a sunken face. “Don’t touch anything. Don’t take anything. Keep your hands, arms, and legs inside the ride at all times.”

“Okay,” Leo said, holding his hands up in defense. “Yeesh.”

Jason scanned the exits. “Which way now?”

Nico hesitated. “This should be the room where the priests invoked the most powerful spirits. One of these passages leads deeper into the temple, to the third level and the altar of Hades himself. But I’m not sure which—”

“That one.” Frank pointed. In a doorway at the opposite end of the room, a ghostly Roman legionnaire beckoned to them. His face was misty and indistinct, but Frank got the feeling the ghost was looking directly at him.

Hazel frowned. “Why that one?”

“You don’t see the ghost?” Frank asked.

“Ghost?” Nico asked.

Okay… if Frank was seeing a ghost that the Underworld kids couldn’t see, something was definitely wrong. He felt like the floor was vibrating underneath him. Then he realized it was vibrating.

“We need to get to that exit,” he said. “Now!”

Hazel almost had to tackle him to restrain him. “Wait, Frank! This floor is not stable, and underneath… well, I’m not sure what’s underneath. I need to scout a safe path.”

“Hurry, then,” he urged.

He drew his bow and herded Hazel along as fast as he dared. Leo scrambled behind him to provide light. The others guarded the rear. Frank could tell he was scaring his friends, but he couldn’t help it. He knew in his gut they had only seconds before…

In front of them, the legionnaire ghost vaporized. The cavern reverberated with monstrous roars—dozens, maybe hundreds of enemies coming from every direction. Frank recognized the throaty bellow of the Earthborn, the screech of gryphons, the guttural war cries of Cyclopes—all sounds he remembered from the Battle of New Rome, amplified underground, echoing in his head even louder than the war god’s voices.

Magnus let out a string of curses. “Frey’s fripperies!”

“What’s a frippery?” Leo screamed.

“I don’t know!” Magnus screamed back.

“Hazel, don’t stop!” Nico ordered. He pulled the scepter of Diocletian from his belt. Alex whipped out his garrote. Piper and Jason drew their swords as the monsters spilled into the cavern.

A vanguard of six-armed Earthborn threw a volley of stones that shattered the bone-and-jewel floor like ice. A fissure spread across the centre of the room, coming straight towards Leo and Hazel.

No time for caution. Frank tackled his friends, and the three of them skidded across the cavern, landing at the edge of the ghost’s tunnel as rocks and spears flew overhead.

“Go!” Frank yelled. “Go, go!”

Hazel and Leo scrambled into the tunnel, which seemed to be the only one free of monsters. Frank wasn’t sure that was a good sign.

Two meters in, Leo turned. “The others!”

The entire cavern shuddered. Frank looked back and his courage crumbled to dust. Dividing the cavern was a new fifteen-meter-wide chasm, spanned only by two rickety stretches of bone flooring.

The bulk of the monster army was on the opposite side, howling in frustration and throwing whatever they could find, including each other. Some attempted to cross the bridges, which creaked and crackled under their weight.

Jason, Piper, Alex, Magnus, and Nico stood on the near side of the chasm, which was good, but they were surrounded by a ring of Cyclopes and hellhounds. More monsters kept pouring in from the side corridors, while gryphons wheeled overhead, undeterred by the crumbling floor. The three demigods would never make it to the tunnel. Even if Jason tried to fly them, they’d be shot out of the air. Magnus looked like one good punch from a monster would kill him.

Frank remembered the voice of his ancestor:  _ At the break, you must take charge. _

“We have to help them,” Hazel said.

Frank’s mind raced, doing battle calculations. He saw exactly what would happen—where and when his friends would be overwhelmed, how all six of them would die here in this cavern… unless Frank changed the equation.

“Nico!” he yelled. “The scepter.”

“Already on it!” Nico raised Diocletian’s scepter, and the cavern air shimmered purple. Ghosts climbed from the fissure and seeped from the walls—an entire Roman legion in full battle gear. They began taking on physical form, like walking corpses, but they seemed confused. Jason yelled in Latin, ordering them to form ranks and attack. The undead just shuffled among the monsters, causing momentary confusion, but that wouldn’t last.

Frank turned to Hazel and Leo. “You two keep going.”

Hazel’s eyes widened. “What? No!”

“You have to.” It was the hardest thing Frank had ever done, but he knew it was the only choice. “Find the Doors. Save Annabeth and Percy.”

“But—” Leo glanced over Frank’s shoulder. “Hit the deck!”

Frank dived for cover as a volley of rocks slammed overhead. When he managed to get up, coughing and covered in dust, the entrance to the tunnel was gone. An entire section of wall had collapsed, leaving a slope of smoking rubble.

“Hazel…” Frank’s voice broke. He had to hope she and Leo were alive on the other side. He couldn’t afford to think otherwise.

Anger swelled in his chest. He turned and charged towards the monster army.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more casual mentions of the Norse escapades that no one but Magnus or Alex understand.
> 
> Almost time for Frank to step up into his role as a leader!


	70. I Receive a Promotion (Frank LXX)

FRANK WAS NO EXPERT ON GHOSTS, but the dead legionnaires must have all been demigods, because they were totally ADHD.

They clawed their way out of the pit, then milled about aimlessly, chest-bumping each other for no apparent reason, pushing one another back into the chasm, shooting arrows into the air as if trying to kill flies and occasionally, out of sheer luck, throwing a javelin, a sword or an ally in the direction of the enemy.

Meanwhile, the army of monsters got thicker and angrier. Earthborn threw volleys of stones that ploughed into the zombie legionnaires, crushing them like paper. Female demons with mismatched legs and fiery hair (Frank guessed they were empousai) gnashed their fangs and shouted orders at the other monsters. A dozen Cyclopes advanced on the crumbling bridges, while seal-shaped humanoids—telkhines, like Frank had seen in Atlanta—lobbed vials of Greek fire across the chasm. There were even some wild centaurs in the mix, shooting flaming arrows and trampling their smaller allies under hoof. In fact, most of the enemy seemed to be armed with some kind of fiery weapon. Despite his new fireproof pouch, Frank found that extremely uncool.

He pushed through the crowd of dead Romans, shooting down monsters until his arrows were spent, slowly making his way towards his friends.

A little late, he realized—duh—he should turn into something big and powerful, like a bear or a dragon. As soon as the thought occurred, pain flared in his arm. He stumbled, looked down and was astonished to find an arrow shaft protruding from his left biceps. His sleeve was soaked with blood.  The sight made him dizzy. Mostly it made him angry. He tried to turn into a dragon, with no luck. The pain made it too hard to focus. Maybe he couldn’t change shape while wounded.

_ Great, _ he thought.  _ Now I find out. _

He dropped his bow and picked up a sword from a fallen… well, he actually wasn’t sure what it was—some sort of reptilian lady warrior with snake trunks instead of legs. He slashed his way forward, trying to ignore the pain and the blood dripping down his arm.

About five meters ahead, Nico was swinging his black sword with one hand, holding the scepter of Diocletian aloft with the other. He kept shouting orders at the legionnaires, but they paid him no attention.

_ Of course not, _ Frank thought. _ He’s Greek. _

Jason and Piper stood at Nico’s back. Jason summoned gusts of wind to blast aside javelins and arrows. He deflected a vial of Greek fire right up the throat of a gryphon, which burst into flames and spiralled into the pit. Piper put her new sword to good use, while spraying food from the cornucopia in her other hand—using hams, chickens, apples and oranges as interceptor missiles. The air above the chasm turned into a fireworks show of flaming projectiles, exploding rocks and fresh produce.

Alex was a garrote wielding machine. There was a semicircle of golden monster dust scattered all over the floor in front of him. Magnus was at his back. But the Norse demigod wasn’t looking too great. It seemed like his condition had deteriorated the closer and closer they got to the Doors of Death. Frank remembered that Piper had said Frey was a fertility god—his domain was sunshine and life. It couldn’t be a good combination to have his son in such close quarters to the Doors of Death. His sentient sword, Jack, was doing all he could to defend Magnus from the monsters that came at him, but more monsters came to take the places of their fallen comrades.

Frank’s friends couldn’t hold out forever. Jason’s face was already beaded with sweat. He kept shouting in Latin: “Form ranks!” But the dead legionnaires wouldn’t listen to him, either. Some of the zombies were helpful just by standing in the way, blocking monsters and taking fire. If they kept getting mowed down, though, there wouldn’t be enough of them left to organize.

“Make way!” Frank shouted. To his surprise, the dead legionnaires parted for him. The closest ones turned and stared at him with blank eyes, as if waiting for further orders.

“Oh, great…” Frank mumbled.

In Venice, Mars had warned him that his true test of leadership was coming. Frank’s ghostly ancestor had urged him to take charge. But, if these dead Romans wouldn’t listen to Jason, why should they listen to him? Because he was a child of Mars, or maybe because…

The truth hit him. Jason wasn’t quite Roman any more. His time at Camp Half-Blood had changed him. Reyna had recognized that. Apparently, so did the undead legionnaires. If Jason no longer gave off the right sort of vibe or aura of a Roman leader…

Frank made it to his friends as a wave of Cyclopes crashed into them. He lifted his sword to parry a Cyclops’s club, then stabbed the monster in the leg, sending him backwards into the pit. Another one charged. Frank managed to impale him, but blood loss was making him weak. His vision blurred. His ears rang.

He was dimly aware of Jason on his left flank, deflecting the incoming missiles with wind; Piper on his right, yelling charmspeak commands—encouraging the monsters to attack each other or take a refreshing jump into the chasm.

“It’ll be fun!” she promised.

A few listened, but across the pit the empousai were countering her orders. Apparently they had charmspeak too. The monsters crowded so thickly around Frank that he could barely use his sword. The stench of their breath and body odour was almost enough to knock him out, even without the arrow throbbing in his arm.

What was Frank supposed to do? He’d had a plan, but his thoughts were getting fuzzy.

“Any ideas?” Alex yelled.

“One, but you aren’t going to like it!” Magnus answered.

Jason slashed a Cyclops to dust. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“I can send weapons flying away,” Magnus explained. “It’s called the Peace of Frey—”

“Do it!” Jason said.

“—but it sends our weapons away too,” Magnus finished. “I’ve never tried to focus it, I’m not sure if it’s possible. But I can try.”

“Anything is better than this,” Piper said. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey! Jump across the chasm! You can do it!”

A bunch of monsters tried it. A couple of them actually made it.

Piper sighed. “Great.” She glanced at Magnus. “It would really suck to lose all our weapons, but at this point—” she didn’t finish as she got caught up in a battle with another monster.

“If you can focus it, do it,” Frank told Magnus. “We need to buy some time to figure out a plan. Nico, a little help?”

“They won’t listen to me!” Nico shouted. “Only an officer of Rome can lead them!”

That was it. Frank had to make the ghosts listen.

He summoned all his strength and yelled, “Cohorts—lock shields!”

The zombies around him stirred. They lined up in front of Frank, putting their shields together in a ragged defensive formation. But they were moving too slowly, like sleepwalkers, and only a few had responded to his voice.

“Frank, how did you do that?” Jason yelled.

Frank’s head swam with pain. He forced himself not to pass out. “I’m the ranking Roman officer,” he said. “They—uh, they don’t recognize you. Sorry.”

Jason grimaced, but he didn’t look particularly surprised. “How can we help?”

Frank wished he had an answer. A gryphon soared overhead, almost decapitating him with its talons. Nico smacked it with the scepter of Diocletian, and the monster veered into a wall.

Meanwhile, Magnus’s gaunt face appeared to be in deep concentration.  “Dad, if you’re paying attention, then please, please, please don’t let me screw this up and send all out weapons flying away because then we’re all going to die and the world is probably also going to end, so please help me, thanks,” he prayed.

Magnus straightened and balled his fists. They glowed an ethereal white light. He shoved his hands out in the direction of a centaur. The centaur flew back—the sword wrenched from its grasp—and dissolved into golden dust when it hit the wall. The sword impaled itself in the eye of a Cyclops.

“Holy Frigg, did you just weaponize the Peace of Frey?” Alex shouted.

“I don’t know!” Magnus yelled.

“Well, do it again!”

Magnus gestured with his glowing hands again, this time at a group of telkhines. The telkhines went flying—as did their weapons—but so did a group of the zombie soldiers Nico had summoned.

“God damn it, sorry!” Magnus shouted.

Alex cut a Cyclops in half with his garrote. “Would it kill you to say gods?”

Frank shook his head. “Orbem formate!” he ordered.

About two dozen zombies obeyed, struggling to form a defensive ring around Frank and his friends. It was enough to give the demigods a little respite, but there were too many enemies pressing forward. Most of the ghostly legionnaires were still wandering around in a daze.

“My rank,” Frank realized.

“All these monsters are rank!” Piper yelled, stabbing a wild centaur.

“No,” Frank said. “I’m only a centurion.”

Jason cursed in Latin. “He means he can’t control a whole legion. He’s not of high enough rank.” He turned his wide eyes on Frank. “Which means I need to promote you!”

Frank’s mind was sluggish. He didn’t understand what Jason meant. Promote him? How?

Jason shouted in his best drill-sergeant voice: “Frank Zhang! I, Jason Grace, praetor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, give you my final order: I resign my post and give you emergency field promotion to praetor, with the full powers of that rank. Take command of this legion!”

Frank felt as if a door had opened somewhere in the House of Hades, letting in a blast of fresh air that swept through the tunnels. The arrow in his arm suddenly didn’t matter. His thoughts cleared. His eyesight sharpened. The voices of Mars and Ares spoke in his mind, strong and unified:  _ Break them! _

Frank hardly recognized his own voice when he yelled: “Legion, agmen formate!”

Instantly, every dead legionnaire in the cavern drew his sword and raised his shield. They scrambled towards Frank’s position, pushing and hacking monsters out of their way until they stood shoulder to shoulder with the comrades, arranging themselves in a square formation. Stones, javelins and fire rained down, but now Frank had a disciplined defensive line sheltering them behind a wall of bronze and leather.

“Sweet!” Magnus exclaimed.

“Archers!” Frank yelled. “Eiaculare flammas!”

He didn’t hold out much hope the command would work. The zombies’ bows couldn’t be in good shape. But, to his surprise, several dozen ghostly skirmishers nocked arrows in unison. Their arrowheads caught fire spontaneously and a flaming wave of death arced over the legion’s line, straight into the enemy. Cyclopes fell. Centaurs stumbled. A telkhine shrieked and ran in circles with a burning arrow impaled in his forehead.

Frank heard a laugh behind him. He glanced back and couldn’t believe what he saw. Nico di Angelo’s face was lit up like a Christmas tree, a wide grin on his face.

“That’s more like it,” Nico said. “Let’s turn this tide!”

“Cuneum formate!” Frank yelled. “Advance with pila!”

The zombie line thickened in the center, forming a wedge designed to break through the enemy host. They lowered their spears in a bristling row and pushed forward.

Earthborn wailed and threw boulders. Cyclopes smashed their fists and clubs against the locked shields, but the zombie legionnaires were no longer paper targets. They had inhuman strength, hardly wavering under the fiercest attacks. Soon the floor was covered with monster dust. The line of javelins chewed through the enemy like a set of giant teeth, felling ogres and snake women and hellhounds.

Frank’s archers shot gryphons out of the air and caused chaos in the main body of the monster army across the chasm. Frank’s forces began to take control of their side of the cavern. One of the stone bridges collapsed, but more monsters kept pouring over the other one. Frank would have to stop that.

“Jason,” he called, “can you fly a few legionnaires across the pit? The enemy’s left flank is weak—see? Take it!”

Jason smiled. “With pleasure.”

Three dead Romans rose into the air and flew across the chasm. Then three more joined them. Finally Jason flew himself across and his squad began cutting through some very surprised-looking telkhines, spreading fear through the enemy’s ranks.

“Nico,” Frank said, “keep trying to raise the dead. We need more numbers.”

“On it.” Nico lifted the scepter of Diocletian, which glowed even darker purple. More ghostly Romans seeped from the walls to join the fight.

Across the chasm, empousai shouted commands in a language Frank didn’t know, but the gist was obvious. They were trying to shore up their allies and keep them charging across the bridge.

“Piper!” Frank yelled. “Counter those empousai! We need some chaos.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” She started catcalling at the female demons: “Your makeup is smeared! Your friend called you ugly! That one is making a face behind your back!” Soon the vampire ladies were too busy fighting one another to shout any commands.

“Magnus! Keep trying that peace thing!” Frank said. “Just try not to send any more of our guys into the chasm?”

“I said I was sorry!” Magnus shouted. He continued to blast and recharge like he was some kind of Iron Man with the blaster hands.

“Alex, go help Jason!” Frank ordered.

Alex glanced back at Magnus, who was able to hold his own pretty well now that he could blast weapons away and he had Jack defending him. And… singing to him?

“I live for the applause, applause, applause,” the sword sang. “I live for the applause-plause, live for the applause-plause. Live for the way that you cheer and scream for me. The applause, applause, applause.”

Either Alex decided that he didn’t want to be around the singing sword, or he decided Magnus could take care of himself because Alex the Hawk took flight and soared over to where Jason was.

The legionnaires moved forward, keeping up the pressure. They had to take the bridge before Jason got overwhelmed.

“Time to lead from the front,” Frank decided. He raised his borrowed sword and called for a charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I weaponize the Peace of Frey? Yes, yes I did. I have been waiting for this chapter ever since someone suggested Magnus try to focus it. I can't remember who suggested it or in which story and chapter it was, but I know someone did and since the underground/Underworld/House of Hades is kinda poisoning Magnus or having ill effects at least, I thought "this is exactly how I can include a weaponized Peace of Frey". So I did.


	71. My Father Blesses Me (Frank LXXI)

FRANK DIDN’T NOTICE THAT HE WAS GLOWING. Later Jason told him that the blessing of Mars had shrouded him in red light, like it had in Venice. Javelins couldn’t touch him. Rocks somehow got deflected. Even with an arrow sticking out of his left biceps, Frank had never felt so full of energy.

The first Cyclops he met went down so quickly it was almost a joke. Frank sliced him in half from shoulder to waist. The big guy exploded into dust. The next Cyclops backed up nervously, so Frank cut his legs out from under him and sent him into the pit.

The remaining monsters on their side of the chasm tried to retreat, but the legion cut them down.

“Testudo formation!” Frank shouted. “Single file, advance!”

Frank was the first one across the bridge. The dead followed, their shields locked on either side and over their heads, deflecting all attacks. As the last of the zombies crossed, the stone bridge crumbled into the darkness, but by then it didn’t matter.

Nico kept summoning more legionnaires to join the fight. Over the history of the empire, thousands of Romans had served and died in Greece. Now they were back, answering the call of Diocletian’s scepter.

Frank waded forward, destroying everything in his path.

“I will burn you!” a telkhine squeaked, desperately waving a vial of Greek fire. “I have fire!”

Frank took him down. As the vial dropped towards the ground, Frank kicked it over the cliff before it could explode.

An empousa raked her claws across Frank’s chest, but Frank felt nothing. He sliced the demon into dust and kept moving. Pain was unimportant. Failure was unthinkable.  He was a leader of the legion now, doing what he was born to do—fighting the enemies of Rome, upholding its legacy, protecting the lives of his friends and comrades. He was Praetor Frank Zhang.

His forces swept the enemy away, breaking their every attempt to regroup. Jason and Piper fought at his side, yelling defiantly. Nico waded through the last group of Earthborn, slashing them into mounds of wet clay with his black Stygian sword. Alex lashed out with his garrote, and Magnus blasted weapons far, far away.

Before Frank knew it, the battle was over. Piper chopped through the last empousa, who vaporized with an anguished wail.

“Frank,” Jason said, “you’re on fire.”

He looked down. A few drops of oil must have splattered on his trousers, because they were starting to smoulder. Frank batted at them until they stopped smoking, but he wasn’t particularly worried. Thanks to Leo, he no longer had to fear fire.

Nico cleared his throat. “Uh… you also have an arrow sticking through your arm.”

“I know.” Frank snapped off the point of the arrow and pulled out the shaft by the tail. He felt only a warm tugging sensation. “I’ll be fine.”

“Dude, let me heal that,” Magnus said, stumbling over.

Alex pulled him back. “No way, Magpie. Have you seen yourself recently? You’ll keel over before you do anything helpful for Frank’s wounds. Let him have some ambrosia.”

Piper offered Magnus a small smile. “I can bandage Frank. Don’t worry.” She handed Frank a square of ambrosia and moved to bandage his arm. “Frank, you were amazing. Completely terrifying, but amazing.”

Frank had trouble processing her words. Terrifying couldn’t apply to him. He was just Frank. His adrenalin drained away. He looked around him, wondering where all the enemies had gone. The only monsters left were his own undead Romans, standing in a stupor with their weapons lowered.

Nico held up his scepter, its orb dark and dormant. “The dead won’t stay much longer, now that the battle is over.”

Frank faced his troops. “Legion!”

The zombie soldiers snapped to attention.

“You fought well,” Frank told them. “Now you may rest. Dismissed.”

They crumbled into piles of bones, armour, shields and weapons. Then even those disintegrated.

Frank felt as if he might crumble too. Despite the ambrosia, his wounded arm began to throb. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion. The blessing of Mars faded, leaving him depleted. But his work wasn’t done yet.

“Hazel and Leo,” he said. “We need to find them.”

His friends peered across the chasm. At the other end of the cavern, the tunnel Hazel and Leo had entered was buried under tons of rubble.

“We can’t go that way,” Nico said. “Maybe…”

Suddenly he staggered. He would have fallen if Jason hadn’t caught him.

“Nico!” Piper said. “What is it?”

“The Doors are cut on the Tartarus side,” Nico said.

Magnus looked worried. “My cousin… are they okay?”

Nico glanced at Magnus with an expression Frank couldn’t read. “Percy and Annabeth are still alive,” he said. “But we have to reach the Doors. Soon.”

“But how?” Jason said. “That tunnel is gone.”

Frank clenched his jaw. He hadn’t come this far to stand around helplessly while his friends were in trouble. “It won’t be fun,” he said, “but there’s another way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Doors are cut and we'll see how that happens... in the next update!


	72. Small Bob Gets an Upgrade (Annabeth LXXII)

PERSONALLY, ANNABETH WASN’T HONORED BY THE OFFER. Getting killed by Tartarus wasn’t anywhere in her top ten ways to die.

As Annabeth stared up at his dark whirlpool face, she decided she’d rather die in some less memorable way like going peacefully in her sleep at age eighty, after a nice quiet life with Percy, even if that was seeming less likely by the minute.

Most things Annabeth had been prepared for. The  _ arai _ giving them curses? Yeah, it sucked, but she was ready to take them on. Akhlys trying to kill them? Also sucked, but she knew they’d make it out okay. The Mansion of Night? Terrifying, but it wasn’t going to kill her.

Tartarus was another thing. She knew this moment was coming, but despite that, Annabeth couldn’t help but freeze up. Her voice wouldn’t work and her limbs were stuck in place. It was like Kronos was freezing time around them, except he  _ wasn’t. _ This was pure fear.

She was dimly aware of the army of monsters swirling around her, but after their initial roar of triumph the horde had fallen silent. Annabeth and Percy should have been ripped to pieces by now. Instead, the monsters kept their distance, waiting for Tartarus to act.

The god of the pit flexed his fingers, examining his own polished black talons. He had no expression, but he straightened his shoulders as if he were pleased.

_ It is good to have form, _ he intoned.  _ With these hands, I can eviscerate you. _

His voice sounded like a backwards recording—as if the words were being sucked into the vortex of his face rather than projected. In fact, everything seemed to be drawn towards the face of this god—the dim light, the poisonous clouds, the essence of the monsters, even Annabeth’s own fragile life force. She looked around and realized that every object on this vast plain had grown a vaporous comet’s tail—all pointing towards Tartarus.

Annabeth knew she should say something, but her instincts told her to hide, to avoid doing anything that would draw the god’s attention.

Besides, what could she say?  _ You won’t get away with this! _

That wasn’t true. She and Percy had only survived this long because Tartarus was savoring his new form. He wanted the pleasure of physically ripping them to pieces. If Tartarus wished, Annabeth had no doubt he could devour her existence with a single thought, as easily as he’d vaporized Hyperion and Krios. Would there be any rebirth from that? Annabeth didn’t want to find out.

This was the one part of the plan Annabeth had never mentioned to Nico or Magnus or Alex or even Will. She and Percy had barely talked about this moment, only sparing it a hushed whisper of what they thought might work. Might being the operative word.

Nico probably knew. He was the only other one who’d actually been in Tartarus. The Labyrinth escape plan was a long shot even without the pressure of escaping the god of the pit.

Next to her, Percy’s hands were shaking. He was still holding Riptide, but Annabeth doubted he would be able to block anything like that. She understood though. She wanted to curl up in a ball and wait for it to be over.

Tartarus hissed again—possibly laughing.

_ Your fear smells wonderful, _ said the god.  _ I see the appeal of having a physical body with so many senses. Perhaps my beloved Gaea is right, wishing to wake from her slumber. _

He stretched out his massive purple hand and might have plucked up Percy like a weed, but Bob interrupted.

“Begone!” The Titan levelled his spear at the god. “You have no right to meddle!”

_ Meddle? _ Tartarus turned.  _ I am the lord of all creatures of the darkness, puny Iapetus. I can do as I please. _

His black cyclone face spun faster. The howling sound was so horrible that Annabeth fell to her knees and clutched her ears. Bob stumbled, the wispy comet tail of his life force growing longer as it was sucked towards the face of the god.

Bob roared in defiance. He charged and thrust his spear at Tartarus’s chest. Before it could connect, Tartarus swatted Bob aside like he was a pesky insect. The Titan went sprawling.

_ Why do you not disintegrate?  _ Tartarus mused.  _ You are nothing. You are even weaker than Krios and Hyperion. _

“I am Bob,” said Bob.

Tartarus hissed.  _ What is that? What is Bob? _

“I choose to be more than Iapetus,” said the Titan. “You do not control me. I am not like my brothers.”

The collar of his coveralls bulged. Small Bob leaped out. The kitten landed on the ground in front of his master, then arched his back and hissed at the lord of the abyss.

As Annabeth watched, Small Bob began to grow, his form flickering until the little kitten had become a full-sized, translucent skeletal saber-toothed tiger.

“Also,” Bob announced, “I have a good cat.”

No-Longer-Small Bob sprang at Tartarus, sinking his claws into Tartarus’s thigh. The tiger scrambled up his leg, straight under the god’s chain-link skirt. Tartarus stomped and howled, apparently no longer enamoured with having a physical form. Meanwhile, Bob thrust his spear into the god’s side, right below his breastplate.

Tartarus roared. He swatted at Bob, but the Titan backed out of reach. Bob thrust out his fingers. His spear yanked itself free of the god’s flesh and flew back to Bob’s hand.

If they all made it out of here alive, Annabeth was seriously considering asking Bob to teach the demigods at Camp Half-Blood how to use a broom.

Small Bob dropped out of Tartarus’s skirt. He ran to his master’s side, his saber-toothed fangs dripping with golden ichor.

_ You will die first, Iapetus, _ Tartarus decided.  _ Afterwards, I will add your soul to my armour, where it will slowly dissolve, over and over, in eternal agony. _

Tartarus pounded his fist against his breastplate. Milky faces swirled in the metal, silently screaming to get out.

Bob turned towards Percy and Annabeth. The Titan grinned, which probably would not have been Annabeth’s reaction to a threat of eternal agony.

“Take the Doors,” Bob said. “I will deal with Tartarus.”

Tartarus threw back his head and bellowed—creating a vacuum so strong that the nearest flying demons were pulled into his vortex face and shredded.

_ Deal with me? _ the god mocked.  _ You are only a Titan, a lesser child of Gaea! I will make you suffer for your arrogance. And as for your tiny mortal friends…  _ Tartarus swept his hand towards the monster army, beckoning them forward.  _ DESTROY THEM! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm weak and I have no restraint right now, so yes. I am posting the next for chapters.


	73. An Old Friend Returns (Annabeth LXXIII)

_ DESTROY THEM. _

Annabeth had heard those words often enough that they shocked her out of her paralysis. She raised her sword and yelled, “Percy!”

Percy jumped like she startled him. He raised his sword as Annabeth dived for the chains holding the Doors of Death. Her drakon-bone blade cut through the left-side moorings in a single swipe. Meanwhile, Percy drove back the first wave of monsters. He stabbed an  _ arai  _ and yelped, “Gah! Stupid curses!” Then he scythed down a half-dozen telkhines.

Annabeth lunged behind him and sliced through the chains on the other side.

The Doors shuddered, then opened with a pleasant  _ Ding! _

Bob and his saber-toothed sidekick continued to weave around Tartarus’s legs, attacking and dodging to stay out of his clutches. They didn’t seem to be doing much damage, but Tartarus lurched around, obviously not used to fighting in a humanoid body. He swiped and missed, swiped and missed.

More monsters surged towards the Doors. A spear flew past Annabeth’s head. She turned and stabbed an empousa through the gut, then dived for the Doors as they started to close. She kept them open with her foot as she fought. At least with her back to the elevator car, she didn’t have to worry about attacks from behind.

“We need to keep the Doors open long enough to get Bob out of here!” Annabeth yelled.

Percy joined her in the doorway, his face dripping with sweat and his clothes speckled with monster dust.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Never better!” Percy grinned. “Got some pain curse from that  _ arai, _ but nothing I can’t handle with my own Curse.” He hacked a gryphon out of the air. “What’s the plan now? How do we get Bob out of here with Tartarus after us?”

“You remember all those really dumb ideas we tossed around?” Annabeth smacked a carnivorous horse in the snout with the butt of her sword and sent the monster stampeding through the crowd. “But like the really dumb ideas?”

Percy’s eyes widened. “The  _ Leo _ idea? How are we supposed to manage  _ that _ by ourselves, Annabeth?”

An entire phalanx of Cyclopes charged forward, knocking smaller monsters out of the way.

“It had to be Cyclopes,” Annabeth grumbled.

Percy gave a battle cry. At the Cyclopes’ feet, a red vein in the ground burst open, spraying the monsters with liquid fire from the Phlegethon. The firewater might have healed mortals, but it didn’t do the Cyclopes any favours. They combusted in a tidal wave of heat. The burst vein sealed itself, but nothing remained of the monsters except a row of scorch marks.

“Hello? Ideas?” Percy said.

“Just try and hold out until help comes,” Annabeth said. “A Titan, a Giant, and a demigod with the Achilles Curse… You should be strong enough—DUCK!”

Percy didn’t ask why. He crouched, and Annabeth vaulted over him, bringing her sword down on the head of a heavily tattooed ogre. She and Percy stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway, waiting for the next wave. The exploding vein had given the monsters pause, but it wouldn’t be long before they remembered:  _ Hey, wait, there’s seventy-five gazillion of us, and only two of them. _

“Yeah, because the first time was  _ so _ easy with five homicidal kids, let’s make it three non-homicidal foes,” Percy shot back.

“Four,” Annabeth corrected. “I’ll be helping you. Small Bob can guard the Doors. Worst case, Bob comes with us on  _ our _ way out.”

“I think you mean the worst case is we die,” Percy muttered.

The crowd of monsters inched forward, snarling and gathering their courage.

Meanwhile, Bob’s attacks were getting slower. Tartarus was learning to control his new body. Saber-toothed Small Bob lunged at the god, but Tartarus smacked the cat sideways. Bob charged, bellowing with rage, but Tartarus grabbed his spear and yanked it out of his hands. He kicked Bob downhill, knocking over a row of telkhines like sea-mammal bowling pins.

_ YIELD! _ Tartarus thundered.

“I will not,” Bob said. “You are not my master.”

_ Die in defiance, then, _ said the god of the pit.  _ You Titans are nothing to me. My children the giants were always better, stronger and more vicious. They will make the upper world as dark as my realm! _

Tartarus snapped the spear in half. Bob wailed in agony. Saber-toothed Small Bob leaped to his aid, snarling at Tartarus and baring his fangs. The Titan struggled to rise, but Annabeth knew it was over. Even the monsters turned to watch, as if sensing that their master Tartarus was about to take the spotlight. The death of a Titan was worth seeing.

Percy gripped Annabeth’s hand. “I hope you’re right about this.”

“Me too,” Annabeth said. She closed her eyes.  _ Please, Damasen. Please come. _

A ripple of alarm passed through the army. In the distance, Annabeth heard shrieks, screams and a persistent boom, boom, boom that was too fast to be the heartbeat in the ground—more like something large and heavy, running at full speed. An Earthborn spun into the air as if he’d been tossed. A plume of bright-green gas billowed across the top of the monstrous horde like the spray from a poison riot hose. Everything in its path dissolved.

Across the swath of sizzling, newly empty ground, Annabeth saw the cause of the commotion. She started to grin.

The Maeonian drakon spread its frilled collar and hissed, its poison breath filling the battlefield with the smell of pine and ginger. It shifted its hundred-foot-long body, flicking its dappled green tail and wiping out a battalion of ogres.

Riding on its back was a red-skinned giant with flowers in his rust-colored braids, a jerkin of green leather and a drakon-rib lance in his hand.

“Damasen!” Annabeth cried.

The giant inclined his head. “Annabeth Chase, I took your advice. I chose myself a new fate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Damasen!


	74. I Devise a Terrible Plan (Annabeth LXXIV)

_ WHAT IS THIS? _ THE GOD OF THE PIT HISSED.  _ Why have you come, my disgraced son? _

Damasen glanced at Annabeth, a clear message in his eyes:  _ Go. Now. _

He turned towards Tartarus. The Maeonian drakon stamped its feet and snarled.

“Father, you wished for a more worthy opponent?” Damasen asked calmly. “I am one of the giants you are so proud of. You wished me to be more war-like? Perhaps I will start by destroying you!”

Damasen levelled his lance and charged.

The monstrous army swarmed him, but the Maeonian drakon flattened everything in its path, sweeping its tail and spraying poison while Damasen jabbed at Tartarus, forcing the god to retreat like a cornered lion.

Bob stumbled away from the battle, his saber-toothed cat at his side. Percy gave them as much cover as he could—causing blood vessels in the ground to burst one after the other. Some monsters were vaporized in Styx water. Others got a Cocytus shower and collapsed, weeping hopelessly. Others were doused with liquid Lethe and stared blankly around them, no longer sure where they were or even who they were.

Bob limped to the Doors. Golden ichor flowed from the wounds on his arms and chest. His janitor’s outfit hung in tatters. His posture was twisted and hunched, as if Tartarus breaking the spear had broken something inside him. Despite all that, he was grinning, his silver eyes bright with satisfaction.

“Go,” he ordered. “I will hold the button.”

“Not happening,” Percy said flatly. “Annabeth has a plan.”

Bob gave them a sad look. “You must go while Tartarus is busy. You cannot fight him.”

“We don’t have to fight him,” Annabeth said. “We just need to slow him down.”

“How?” Bob asked.

Percy looked at Annabeth. “Good question.”

Annabeth took a deep breath. “I’ll need Small Bob to guard the Doors and me while I hold them open. Percy and Bob, you two need to help Damasen get Tartarus on his knees. That’s when I’ll attack. Small Bob will take my place in holding the Doors. It won’t last forever since we’re still in his realm, but it’ll buy us enough time to get out. Percy, try and disperse him with the rivers.”

Bob gave Annabeth an astonished look. “But it took five of us—my brothers and I—to—”

“This  _ will _ work, Bob,” Annabeth said. “If not… then it doesn’t matter. Percy and I aren’t leaving. Not without you and Damasen. Which means we’re going to do everything we can to make sure it’s you two in these Doors. Understand?”

“I understand,” Bob said.

“Good,” Annabeth said. “Small Bob, can you guard me?”

Small Bob the saber-toothed growled in agreement.

A screaming Cyclops, sizzling from poison spray, sailed over their heads.

“Go!” Annabeth yelled.

Small Bob lunged at the monsters while Bob and Percy charged towards Damasen.

Fifty yards away, the Maeonian drakon trampled through monsters, its feet making sickening squish squish noises as if stomping grapes. On its back, Damasen yelled insults and jabbed at the god of the pit, taunting Tartarus further away from the Doors.

Tartarus lumbered after him, his iron boots making craters in the ground.

_ You cannot kill me! _ he bellowed. _ I am the pit itself. You might as well try to kill the earth. Gaea and I—we are eternal. We own you, flesh and spirit! _

He brought down his massive fist, but Damasen sidestepped, impaling his javelin in the side of Tartarus’s neck.

Tartarus growled, apparently more annoyed than hurt. He turned his swirling vacuum face towards the giant, but Damasen got out of the way in time. A dozen monsters were sucked into the vortex and disintegrated.

“Over here, loser!” Percy shouted. He jumped at the god and nicked his shoulder.

The god barely flinched.  _ You think you can hurt me in my own realm? _

“Nope,” Percy said. “I know I can hurt you in your own realm. I have the Curse of Achilles. You, on the other hand, do not.” He raised his sword and drew more godly ichor from Tartarus.

Tartarus roared and swatted at Percy who rolled out of the way.

Annabeth saw Bob say something to Damasen who’s jaw dropped. Most likely telling him her idea. She hoped Damasen would go along with it.

Damasen hopped off the Maeonian drakon and sent it careening into the crowd of monsters. It was clearly enjoying throwing them around and causing mass chaos.

_ This is probably really dumb, but we’re running out of options, _ Annabeth thought to herself. She looked at the drakon and gave a loud taxicab whistle. Not as bad as Will Solace’s, but definitely loud enough to get the drakon’s attention.

Annabeth swallowed as the drakon stomped over.  _ Just like Cerberus, _ she said.  _ Obedience school. You got this, Chase. _

“Stop,” she ordered. “You’re going to guard Small Bob until I get back.” She held the Maeonian drakon’s gaze and was careful not to let any of her hesitance show.

“Small Bob,” she called, eyes never leaving the drakon’s.

The saber-toothed trotted over dutifully.

“You gotta hold these Doors open,” she told the cat. “This drakon is going to guard you. Isn’t that right?” she asked the drakon. She pointed at the onslaught of enemies. “Attack!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you can guess where this is going. I... have a thing for this I guess.


	75. Percy Becomes Peter (Annabeth LXXV)

ANNABETH PREMATURELY THANKED ALL THE GODS—even Hera—for what happened.

The Maeonian drakon roared and charged the monsters that were coming for the Doors. Small Bob squeezed into the spot between the Doors, preventing them from closing. Somehow, something was finally going right for them.

Then she looked at Percy, Bob, and Damasen. Damasen had managed to wrestle Tartarus to the ground, but now they were rolling around, landing punch after punch on each other. Bob attempted to cut in a few times, but he was pushed back. By Tartarus or Damasen, Annabeth wasn’t sure who’s fists were who’s anymore. Percy was hovering over them with Riptide raised, but he couldn’t stab at Tartarus without being certain he wouldn’t accidentally catch Damasen.

Annabeth cursed. “ _ Vlacas! _ Percy!”

She cut down Cyclopes and telkhines as she made her way over to stand with her boyfriend.

“Hey.” Percy looked grim. “What do we do?”

Annabeth’s hand tightened around her drakon bone sword. “I don’t know! I thought you were either going to get him down quick or you’d all die really quick and I’d be coming to avenge your murder.”

Percy blinked. “Love you too.”

_ Why won’t you die? _ Tartarus roared.

“Just like jump rope,” Percy muttered.

“Just like  _ what?” _ Annabeth repeated.

Percy gave her a sheepish smile. “Jump rope? You know, you just kinda jump in and hope the rope doesn’t trip you?”

“I’m going to murder you if one of them doesn’t do it for me,” Annabeth told him.

“That was a 180,” Percy said. “What happened to avenging my death?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he dove at the tussling immortals.

Annabeth wished she could say Percy changed the course of the fight. He didn’t.

If it wasn’t for the Achilles Curse, Annabeth was pretty sure Percy would have been flattened ten times over  _ each _ by Tartarus and Damasen. And quite possibly impaled on Damasen’s javelin at least five times before he made any significant changes.

_ How dare you interfere, puny demigod!  _ Tartarus screamed.

Percy gritted his teeth. “Well clearly—AH!” He was once again smushed by the primordial god and the giant.

“Clearly you need someone to break up this fight,” he continued once he was freed, though it was more subdued. “FOR NARNIA!” he yelled.

A random part of Annabeth’s mind figured Mr. D would appreciate this considering the character the battle cry belonged to was named Peter, but she shook herself out of her thoughts and focused on the battle.

Apparently this was not the kind of battle cry Tartarus expected—nor Damasen—because the two immortals frozen in the middle of their fight at Percy’s cry.

Bob and Percy took advantage of this. They tackled the god of the pit, sending him sprawling to the ground on his stomach. The god tried to get up, but Damasen had recovered from the shock and was stepping on Tartarus’s ankles and placing his hands on the god’s back to prevent him from standing. Percy and Bob each latched onto one of Tartarus’s arms and held him down.

_ Fools, _ Tartarus hissed.  _ You cannot kill me. I am immortal. This is  _ my _ territory! _

“True,” Annabeth agreed. She stepped up to look down at Tartarus. “But we can slow you down for a time. Just enough time to allow us to escape. Ouranos still hasn’t come back, but he was chopped up on Gaea’s territory. I don’t know what happens when you’re chopped up on your territory, but I imagine you stay out of our way for a while. Goodbye, Tartarus.”

She raised her drakon-bone sword and plunged it straight through the god’s back, the tip of the sword touching the ground below Tartarus’s form. Ichor dripped from the wound. A gush of water exploded and washed over the ichor and Tartarus’s hands. Annabeth guessed this was water from the Cocytus.

“This is so crazy!” Percy screamed.

Damasen drove his javelin through his father to run parallel to Annabeth’s sword. The point drove deep into the ground, locking the god in place.

Tartarus roared in pain.

“Get back!” Percy warned.

Annabeth didn’t hesitate. She ripped her sword out of the god’s back—eliciting another yell—and dove back. Bob followed after her, grabbing Damasen by the arm.

Percy closed his eyes and suddenly Tartarus was surrounded by water from all the five rivers. The fiery water of the Phlegethon mixed with the polluted water of the Styx and the milky water of the Lethe and the inky black of the Cocytus and the crying water of the Acheron. That couldn’t be too healthy mixed together.

Yet Tartarus still pursued, roaring and yelling as the water encompassed him.

“Annabeth!” Percy called. “Catch!” He tossed her his sword.

She caught Riptide by the hilt in her left hand. She nodded to Percy.

When Percy parted a path through the water, Annabeth was ready. She charged in, both swords drawn. Tartarus looked surprised to see her, but she didn’t hesitate. She struck quickly, inflicting more wounds in the god and causing his ichor to join the mix of Underworld waters.

Percy wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer though. Annabeth made one last strike, cutting a jagged line across Tartarus’s face—much like the one Luke used to have, a part of her brain added helpfully—then ran back out.

The waters crashed down around Tartarus, the roar of the water drowning out the roars of the god.

It seemed like hours later before Percy let the waters go, but when he did, Tartarus was gone. Damasen’s javelin was still sticking up from the ground.

Annabeth let out a breath. “Oh my gods. We did it. We—” she glanced back at Small Bob and the Maeonian drakon. They were surrounded by monsters. “We have to get back to the Doors now!”

With a Titan and a Giant on their side, it was easy to battle their way through the crowd of monsters and to the Doors.

“You should go,” Bob said.

Percy smiled ruefully. “Probably. But I’d rather you and Damasen go.”

Damasen’s head whipped around. “You’re staying here? What? Why? How? You’ll never make it out alive if you don’t go now!”

“Neither will you,” Annabeth said. “Percy and I knew we weren’t going to leave through the Doors when we came down. But we  _ can _ send you up. I’ll hold the button, Percy will protect me. Please. Go. Say hello to the sun and the stars.”

The Doors tried to close on Small Bob who gave a yelp.

“You don’t understand what you’re doing,” Damasen said sadly.

Annabeth looked up at him through tears. “Yes. We do. Better than you will ever know. Now, hurry! Go!”

“How will I repay you for freeing me?”

“Tell the sun and stars hello for us,” Annabeth said with a small smile. “And help our friends. They’re on the other side of the Door.”

Damasen inclined his head. “I will help your friends,” he promised. “Good luck, Annabeth Chase. And you too, Percy Jackson.”

“Good luck, Damasen,” Percy said softly. “Good luck, Bob.”

Damasen stepped into the elevator. Bob followed after a moment of hesitation.

“You too, Small Bob,” Annabeth said quietly to the saber-toothed.

Small Bob mewed and stepped back into the elevator.

“We’ll see you again!” Annabeth promised. “We  _ will _ make it out one day.”

The panels slid shut.

Annabeth shoved her thumb over the button. She locked eyes with Percy. “Don’t let me die before twelve minutes are up, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy grinned. “You got it, Wise Girl.” He let out a roar and attacked the monsters, the Maeonian drakon at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... I REALLY have a thing for pulling an Ouranos and Gaea on Tartarus... But like what other solution is there?
> 
> Anyway, I told you guys Bob and Damasen would live. Percy and Annabeth... that's a story for another book.
> 
> Four more days worth of posting after this and then House of Hades is done!


	76. Leo Becomes a Philosopher (Hazel LXXVI)

HAZEL WASN’T PROUD OF CRYING.

After the tunnel collapsed, she wept and screamed like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. She couldn’t move the debris that separated her and Leo from the others. If the earth shifted any more, the entire complex might collapse on their heads. Still, she pounded her fists against the stones and yelled curses that would’ve earned her a mouth-washing with lye soap back at St Agnes Academy.

Leo stared at her, wide-eyed and speechless.

She wasn’t being fair to him.

The last time the two of them had been together, she’d zapped him into her past and shown him Sammy, his great-grandfather—Hazel’s first boyfriend. She’d burdened him with emotional baggage he didn’t need and left him so dazed they had almost been killed by a giant shrimp monster.

Now here they were, alone again, while their friends might be dying at the hands of a monster army, and she was throwing a fit.

“Sorry.” She wiped her face.

“Hey, you know…” Leo shrugged. “I’ve attacked a few rocks in my day.”

She swallowed with difficulty. “Frank is… he’s—”

“Listen,” Leo said. “Frank Zhang has moves. He’s probably gonna turn into a kangaroo and do some marsupial jujitsu on their ugly faces.”

He helped her to her feet. Despite the panic simmering inside her, she knew Leo was right. Frank and the others weren’t helpless. They would find a way to survive. The best thing she and Leo could do was carry on.

She studied Leo. His hair had grown out longer and shaggier, and his face was leaner, so he looked less like an imp and more like one of those willowy elves in the fairy tales. The biggest difference was his eyes. They constantly drifted, as if Leo was trying to spot something over the horizon.

“Leo, I’m sorry,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay. For what?”

“For…” She gestured around her helplessly. “Everything. For thinking you were Sammy, for leading you on. I mean, I didn’t mean to, but if I did—”

“Hey.” He squeezed her hand, though Hazel sensed nothing romantic in the gesture. “Machines are designed to work.”

“Uh, what?”

“I figure the universe is basically like a machine. I don’t know who made it, if it was the Fates or the gods or capital-G God or whatever. But it chugs along the way it’s supposed to most of the time. Sure, little pieces break and stuff goes haywire once in a while, but mostly… things happen for a reason. Like you and me meeting.”

“Leo Valdez,” Hazel marvelled, “you’re a philosopher.”

“Nah,” he said. “I’m just a mechanic. But I figure my bisabuelo Sammy knew what was what. He let you go, Hazel. My job is to tell you that it’s okay. You and Frank—you’re good together. We’re all going to get through this. I hope you guys get a chance to be happy. Besides, Zhang couldn’t tie his shoes without your help.”

“That’s mean,” Hazel chided, but she felt like something was untangling inside her—a knot of tension she’d been carrying for weeks.

Leo really had changed. Hazel was starting to think she’d found a good friend.

“What happened to you when you were on your own?” she asked. “Who did you meet?”

Leo’s eye twitched. “Long story. I’ll tell you sometime, but I’m still waiting to see how it shakes out.”

“The universe is a machine,” Hazel said, “so it’ll be fine.”

“Hopefully.”

“As long as it’s not one of your machines,” Hazel added. “Because your machines never do what they’re supposed to.”

“Yeah, ha-ha.” Leo summoned fire into his hand. “Now, which way, Miss Underground?”

Hazel scanned the path in front of them. About thirty feet down, the tunnel split into four smaller arteries, each one identical, but the one on the left radiated cold.

“That way,” she decided. “It feels the most dangerous.”

“I’m sold,” said Leo.

They began their descent.

* * *

As soon as they reached the first archway, the polecat Gale found them.

She scurried up Hazel’s side and curled around her neck, chittering crossly as if to say:  _ Where have you been? You’re late. _

“Not the farting weasel again,” Leo complained. “If that thing lets loose in close quarters like this, with my fire and all, we’re gonna explode.”

Gale barked a polecat insult at Leo.

Hazel hushed them both. She could sense the tunnel ahead, sloping gently down for about three hundred feet, then opening into a large chamber. In that chamber was a presence… cold, heavy and powerful. Hazel hadn’t felt anything like it since the cave in Alaska where Gaea had forced her to resurrect Porphyrion the giant king. Hazel had thwarted Gaea’s plans that time, but she’d had to pull down the cavern, sacrificing her life and her mother’s. She wasn’t anxious to have a similar experience.

“Leo, be ready,” she whispered. “We’re getting close.”

“Close to what?”

A woman’s voice echoed down the corridor: “Close to me.”

A wave of nausea hit Hazel so hard her knees buckled. The whole world shifted. Her sense of direction, usually flawless underground, became completely unmoored.

She and Leo didn’t seem to move, but suddenly they were three hundred feet down the corridor, at the entrance of the chamber.

“Welcome,” said the woman’s voice. “I’ve looked forward to this.”

Hazel’s eyes swept the cavern. She couldn’t see the speaker.

The room reminded her of the Pantheon in Rome, except this place had been decorated in Hades Modern.

The obsidian walls were carved with scenes of death: plague victims, corpses on the battlefield, torture chambers with skeletons hanging in iron cages—all of it embellished with precious gems that somehow made the scenes even more ghastly.

As in the Pantheon, the domed roof was a waffle pattern of recessed square panels, but here each panel was a stela—a grave marker with Ancient Greek inscriptions. Hazel wondered if actual bodies were buried behind them. With her underground senses out of whack, she couldn’t be sure.

She saw no other exits. At the apex of the ceiling, where the Pantheon’s skylight would’ve been, a circle of pure black stone gleamed, as if to reinforce the sense that there was no way out of this place—no sky above, only darkness.

Hazel’s eyes drifted to the centre of the room.

“Yep,” Leo muttered. “Those are doors, all right.”

Fifty feet away was a set of freestanding elevator doors, their panels etched in silver and iron. Rows of chains ran down either side, bolting the frame to large hooks in the floor.  The area around the doors was littered with black rubble. With a tightening sense of anger, Hazel realized that an ancient altar to Hades had once stood there. It had been destroyed to make room for the Doors of Death.

“Where are you?” she shouted.

“Don’t you see us?” taunted the woman’s voice. “I thought Hecate chose you for your skill.”

Another bout of queasiness churned through Hazel’s gut. On her shoulder, Gale barked and passed gas, which didn’t help.

Dark spots floated in Hazel’s eyes. She tried to blink them away, but they only turned darker. The spots consolidated into a twenty-foot-tall shadowy figure looming next to the Doors.

The giant Clytius was shrouded in the black smoke, just as she’d seen in her vision at the crossroads, but now Hazel could dimly make out his form—dragon-like legs with ash-colored scales; a massive humanoid upper body encased in Stygian armour; long, braided hair that seemed to be made from smoke. His complexion was as dark as Death’s (Hazel should know, since she had met Death personally). His eyes glinted cold as diamonds. He carried no weapon, but that didn’t make him any less terrifying.

Leo whistled. “You know, Clytius… for such a big dude, you’ve got a beautiful voice.”

“Idiot,” hissed the woman.

Halfway between Hazel and the giant, the air shimmered. The sorceress appeared.

She wore an elegant sleeveless dress of woven gold, her dark hair piled into a cone, encircled with diamonds and emeralds. Around her neck hung a pendant like a miniature maze, on a cord set with rubies that made Hazel think of crystallized blood drops.

The woman was beautiful in a timeless, regal way—like a statue you might admire but could never love. Her eyes sparkled with malice.

“Pasiphaë,” Hazel said.

The woman inclined her head. “My dear Hazel Levesque.”

Leo coughed. “You two know each other? Like Underworld chums, or—”

“Silence, fool.” Pasiphaë’s voice was soft, but full of venom. “I have no use for demigod boys—always so full of themselves, so brash and destructive.”

“Hey, lady,” Leo protested. “I don’t destroy things much. I’m a son of Hephaestus.”

“A tinkerer,” snapped Pasiphaë. “Even worse. I knew Daedalus. His inventions brought me nothing but trouble.”

Leo blinked. “Daedalus… like, the Daedalus? Well, then, you should know all about us tinkerers. We’re more into fixing, building, occasionally sticking wads of oilcloth in the mouths of rude ladies—”

“Leo.” Hazel put her arm across his chest. She had a feeling the sorceress was about to turn him into something unpleasant if he didn’t shut up. “Let me take this, okay?”

“Listen to your friend,” Pasiphaë said. “Be a good boy and let the women talk.”

Pasiphaë paced in front of them, examining Hazel, her eyes so full of hate it made Hazel’s skin tingle. The sorceress’s power radiated from her like heat from a furnace. Her expression was unsettling and vaguely familiar…

Somehow, though, the giant Clytius unnerved Hazel more.

He stood in the background, silent and motionless except for the dark smoke pouring from his body, pooling around his feet. He was the cold presence Hazel had felt earlier—like a vast deposit of obsidian, so heavy that Hazel couldn’t possibly move it, powerful and indestructible and completely devoid of emotion.

“Your—your friend doesn’t say much,” Hazel noted.

Pasiphaë looked back at the giant and sniffed with disdain. “Pray he stays silent, my dear. Gaea has given me the pleasure of dealing with you, but Clytius is my, ah, insurance. Just between you and me, as sister sorceresses, I think he’s also here to keep my powers in check, in case I forget my new mistress’s orders. Gaea is careful that way.”

Hazel was tempted to protest that she wasn’t a sorceress. She didn’t want to know how Pasiphaë planned to ‘deal’ with them, or how the giant kept her magic in check. But she straightened her back and tried to look confident.

“Whatever you’re planning,” Hazel said, “it won’t work. We’ve cut through every monster Gaea’s put in our path. If you’re smart, you’ll get out of our way.”

Gale the polecat gnashed her teeth in approval, but Pasiphaë didn’t seem impressed.

“You don’t look like much,” the sorceress mused. “But then you demigods never do. My husband, Minos, king of Crete? He was a son of Zeus. You would never have known it by looking at him. He was almost as scrawny as that one.” She flicked a hand towards Leo.

“Wow,” muttered Leo. “Minos must’ve done something really horrible to deserve you.”

Pasiphaë’s nostrils flared. “Oh… you have no idea. He was too proud to make the proper sacrifices to Poseidon, so the gods punished me for his arrogance.”

“The Minotaur,” Hazel suddenly remembered.

The story was so revolting and grotesque Hazel had always shut her ears when they told it at Camp Jupiter. Pasiphaë had been cursed to fall in love with her husband’s prize bull. She’d given birth to the Minotaur—half man, half bull.

Now, as Pasiphaë glared daggers at her, Hazel realized why her expression was so familiar. The sorceress had the same bitterness and hatred in her eyes that Hazel’s mother sometimes had. In her worst moments, Marie Levesque would look at Hazel as if Hazel were a monstrous child, a curse from the gods, the source of all Marie’s problems. That’s why the Minotaur story bothered Hazel—not just the repellent idea of Pasiphaë and the bull but the idea that a child, any child, could be considered a monster, a punishment to its parents, to be locked away and hated. To Hazel, the Minotaur had always seemed like a victim in the story.

“Yes,” Pasiphaë said at last. “My disgrace was unbearable. After my son was born and locked in the Labyrinth, Minos refused to have anything to do with me. He said I had ruined his reputation! And do you know what happened to Minos, Hazel Levesque? For his crimes and his pride? He was rewarded. He was made a judge of the dead in the Underworld, as if he had any right to judge others! Hades gave him that position. Your father.”

“Pluto, actually.”

Pasiphaë sneered. “Irrelevant. So you see, I hate demigods as much as I hate the gods. Any of your brethren who survive the war, Gaea has promised to me, so that I may watch them die slowly in my new domain. I only wish I had more time to torture you two properly. Alas—”

In the centre of the room, the Doors of Death made a pleasant chiming sound. The green UP button on the right side of the frame began to glow. The chains shook.

“There, you see?” Pasiphaë shrugged apologetically. “The Doors are in use. Twelve minutes, and they will open.”

Hazel’s gut trembled almost as much as the chains. “More giants?”

“Thankfully, no,” said the sorceress. “They are all accounted for—back in the mortal world and in place for the final assault.” Pasiphaë gave her a cold smile. “No, I would imagine the Doors are being used by someone else… someone unauthorized.”

Leo inched forward. Smoke rose from his fists. “Percy and Annabeth.”

Hazel couldn’t speak. She wasn’t sure whether the lump in her throat was from joy or frustration. If their friends had made it to the Doors, if they were really going to show up here in twelve minutes…

“Percy and Annabeth?” Pasiphaë laughed. “Your friends? Oh if only you knew.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Whoever it is, Clytius will handle them. You see, when the chime sounds again, someone on our side needs to push the UP button or the Doors will fail to open and whoever is inside—poof. Gone. Or perhaps Clytius will let them out and deal with them in person. That depends on you two.”

Hazel’s mouth tasted like tin. She didn’t want to ask, but she had to. “How exactly does it depend on us?”

“Well, obviously, we need only one set of demigods alive,” Pasiphaë said. “The lucky two will be taken to Athens and sacrificed to Gaea at the Feast of Hope.”

“Obviously,” Leo muttered.

“So will it be you two or your… friends in the elevator?” The sorceress spread her hands. “Let’s see who is still alive in twelve… actually, eleven minutes, now.”

The cavern dissolved into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... just contemplating the Trials of Apollo premise. Zeus, king of the gods, has the power to mortalify Apollo and he does so in order to force Apollo to defeat the Roman emperors and recover the Oracle of Delphi. Now, I'm just spitballing here, but... WHY THE HADES DIDN'T HE MORTALIFY NERO, CALIGULA, AND COMMODUS? Like... is that not the easier route? Turn them mortal (something he clearly has the power to do) and THEN smite them. Boom. Done. Like, I'm all for Apollo's story of changing, but... does Zeus not realize that he could have done this in August and have Delphi reclaimed by September? And his son would still be alive, and like... I dunno. I might make a crack one shot out of this one day.


	77. These Are Not the Friends You Are Looking For (Hazel LXXVII)

HAZEL’S INTERNAL COMPASS SPUN WILDLY.

She remembered when she had been very small, in New Orleans in the late 1930s, her mother had taken her to the dentist to get a bad tooth pulled. It was the first and only time Hazel had ever received ether. The dentist promised it would make her sleepy and relaxed, but Hazel felt like she was floating away from her own body, panicky and out of control. When the ether wore off, she’d been sick for three days.

This felt like a massive dose of ether.

Part of her knew she was still in the cavern. Pasiphaë stood only a few feet in front of them. Clytius waited silently at the Doors of Death.

But layers of Mist enfolded Hazel, twisting her sense of reality. She took one step forward and bumped into a wall that shouldn’t have been there.

Leo pressed his hands against the stone. “What the heck? Where are we?”

A corridor stretched out to their left and right. Torches guttered in iron sconces. The air smelled of mildew, as in an old tomb. On Hazel’s shoulder, Gale barked angrily, digging her claws into Hazel’s collarbone.

“Yes, I know,” Hazel muttered to the weasel. “It’s an illusion.”

Leo pounded on the wall. “Pretty solid illusion.”

Pasiphaë laughed. Her voice sounded watery and far away. “Is it an illusion, Hazel Levesque, or something more? Don’t you see what I have created?”

Hazel felt so off-balance she could barely stand, much less think straight. She tried to extend her senses, to see through the Mist and find the cavern again, but all she felt were tunnels splitting off in a dozen directions, going everywhere except forward.

Random thoughts glinted in her mind, like gold nuggets coming to the surface:  _ Daedalus. The Minotaur locked away. Die slowly in my new domain. _

“The Labyrinth,” Hazel said. “She’s remaking the Labyrinth.”

“What now?” Leo had been tapping the wall with a ball-peen hammer, but he turned and frowned at her. “I thought the Labyrinth collapsed during that battle at Camp Half-Blood—like, it was connected to Daedalus’s life force or something, and then he died.”

Pasiphaë’s voice clucked disapprovingly. “Ah, but I am still alive. You credit Daedalus with all the maze’s secrets? I breathed magical life into his Labyrinth. Daedalus was nothing compared to me—the immortal sorceress, daughter of Helios, sister of Circe! Now the Labyrinth will be my domain.”

“It’s an illusion,” Hazel insisted. “We just have to break through it.”

Even as she said it, the walls seemed to grow more solid, the smell of mildew more intense.

“Too late, too late,” Pasiphaë crooned. “The maze is already awake. It will spread under the skin of the earth once more while your mortal world is levelled. You demigods… you heroes… will wander its corridors, dying slowly of thirst and fear and misery. Or perhaps, if I am feeling merciful, you will die quickly, in great pain!”

Holes opened in the floor beneath Hazel’s feet. She grabbed Leo and pushed him aside as a row of spikes shot upward, impaling the ceiling.

“Run!” she yelled.

Pasiphaë’s laughter echoed down the corridor. “Where are you going, young sorceress? Running from an illusion?”

Hazel didn’t answer. She was too busy trying to stay alive. Behind them, row after row of spikes shot towards the ceiling with a persistent thunk, thunk, thunk. She pulled Leo down a side corridor, leaped over a tripwire, then stumbled to a halt in front of a pit twenty feet across.

“How deep is that?” Leo gasped for breath. His trouser leg was ripped where one of the spikes had grazed him.

Hazel’s senses told her that the pit was at least fifty feet straight down, with a pool of poison at the bottom. Could she trust her senses? Whether or not Pasiphaë had created a new Labyrinth, Hazel believed they were still in the same cavern, being made to run aimlessly back and forth while Pasiphaë and Clytius watched in amusement. Illusion or not: unless Hazel could figure out how to get out of this maze, the traps would kill them.

“Eight minutes now,” said the voice of Pasiphaë. “I’d love to see you survive, truly. That would prove you worthy sacrifices to Gaea in Athens. And of course, I’d love to see your faces when the elevator doors open.”

Hazel’s heart pounded. She faced the wall to her left. Despite what her senses told her, that should be the direction of the Doors. Pasiphaë should be right in front of her.

Hazel wanted to burst through the wall and throttle the sorceress. In eight minutes, she and Leo needed to be at the Doors of Death to let their friends out. Or… whoever was in the elevator. Unless that was just Pasiphaë messing with them. Of course it had to be Percy and Annabeth, who else could it be?

But Pasiphaë was an immortal sorceress with thousands of years of experience in weaving spells. Hazel couldn’t defeat her through sheer willpower. She’d managed to fool the bandit Sciron by showing him what he expected to see. Hazel needed to figure out what Pasiphaë wanted most.

“Seven minutes now,” Pasiphaë lamented. “If only we had more time! So many indignities I’d like you to suffer.”

That was it, Hazel realized. She had to run the gauntlet. She had to make the maze more dangerous, more spectacular—make Pasiphaë focus on the traps rather than the direction the Labyrinth was leading.

“Leo, we’re going to jump,” Hazel said.

“But—”

“It’s not as far as it looks. Go!” She grabbed his hand and they launched themselves across the pit.

When they landed, Hazel looked back and saw no pit at all—just a three-inch crack in the floor.

“Come on!” she urged.

They ran as the voice of Pasiphaë droned on. “Oh, dear, no. You’ll never survive that way. Six minutes.”

The ceiling above them cracked apart. Gale the weasel squeaked in alarm, but Hazel imagined a new tunnel leading off to the left—a tunnel even more dangerous, going in the wrong direction. The Mist softened under her will. The tunnel appeared, and they dashed to one side.

Pasiphaë sighed with disappointment. “You really aren’t very good at this, my dear.”

But Hazel felt a spark of hope. She’d created a tunnel. She’d driven a small wedge into the magic fabric of the Labyrinth.

The floor collapsed under them. Hazel jumped to one side, dragging Leo with her. She imagined another tunnel, veering back the way they’d come, but full of poisonous gas. The maze obliged.

“Leo, hold your breath,” she warned.

They plunged through the toxic fog. Hazel’s eyes felt like they were being rinsed in pepper juice, but she kept running.

“Five minutes,” Pasiphaë said. “Alas! If only I could watch you suffer longer.”

They burst into a corridor with fresh air. Leo coughed. “If only she would shut up.”

They ducked under a bronze garrote wire. Hazel imagined the tunnel curving back towards Pasiphaë, ever so slightly. The Mist bent to her will.

The walls of the tunnel began to close in on either side. Hazel didn’t try to stop them. She made them close faster, shaking the floor and cracking the ceiling. She and Leo ran for their lives, following the curve as it brought them closer to what she hoped was the centre of the room.

“A pity,” said Pasiphaë. “I wish I could kill you, but Gaea has insisted that two of you must be kept alive until the Feast of Hope, when your blood will be put to good use. She would have preferred the son of Poseidon and daughter of Athena, but you two will have to do for now.”

Hazel almost dropped the Mist. Gaea wanted Percy and Annabeth, that much they all knew. But the way Pasiphaë talked made it sound like that was no longer an option for Gaea. And if that was no longer an option… What did that mean for Percy and Annabeth?

So deep in her thoughts, Hazel would have fallen into the chasm if Leo hadn’t pulled her back.

They stumbled to a stop. The chasm stretched so wide, Hazel couldn’t see the other side. From somewhere below in the darkness came the sound of hissing—thousands and thousands of snakes.

Hazel was tempted to retreat, but the tunnel was closing behind them, leaving them stranded on a tiny ledge. Gale the weasel paced across Hazel’s shoulders and farted with anxiety. No time to think about Percy and Annabeth. Hazel had to get herself and Leo out of this first.

“Okay, okay,” Leo muttered. “The walls are moving parts. They gotta be mechanical. Give me a second.”

“No, Leo,” Hazel said. “There’s no way back.”

“But—”

“Hold my hand,” she said. “On three.”

“But—”

“Three!”

“What?”

Hazel leaped into the pit, pulling Leo with her. She tried to ignore his screaming and the flatulent weasel clinging to her neck. She bent all her will into redirecting the magic of the Labyrinth.

Pasiphaë laughed with delight, knowing that any moment they would be crushed or bitten to death in a pit of snakes.

Instead, Hazel imagined a chute in the darkness, just to their left. She twisted in midair and fell towards it. She and Leo hit the chute hard and slid into the cavern, landing right on top of Pasiphaë.

“Ack!” The sorceress’s head smacked against the floor as Leo sat down hard on her chest.

For a moment, the three of them and the weasel were a pile of sprawling bodies and flailing limbs.

Hazel tried to draw her sword, but Pasiphaë managed to extricate herself first. The sorceress backed away, her hairdo bent sideways like a collapsed cake. Her dress was smeared with grease stains from Leo’s tool belt.

“You miserable wretches!” she howled.

The maze was gone. A few feet away, Clytius stood with his back to them, watching the Doors of Death. By Hazel’s calculation, they had about thirty seconds until their friends arrived. Hazel felt exhausted from her run through the maze while controlling the Mist, but she needed to pull off one more trick.

She had successfully made Pasiphaë see what she most desired. Now Hazel had to make the sorceress see what she most feared.

“You must really hate demigods,” Hazel said, trying to mimic Pasiphaë’s cruel smile. “We always get the better of you, don’t we, Pasiphaë?”

“Nonsense!” screamed Pasiphaë. “I will tear you apart! I will—”

“We’re always pulling the rug out from under your feet,” Hazel sympathized. “Your husband betrayed you. Theseus killed the Minotaur and stole your daughter Ariadne. Now two second-rate failures have turned your own maze against you. But you knew it would come to this, didn’t you? You always fall in the end.”

“I am immortal!” Pasiphaë wailed. She took a step back, fingering her necklace. “You cannot stand against me!”

“You can’t stand at all,” Hazel countered. “Look.”

She pointed at the feet of the sorceress. A trapdoor opened underneath Pasiphaë. She fell, screaming, into a bottomless pit that didn’t really exist.

The floor solidified. The sorceress was gone.

Leo stared at Hazel in amazement. “How did you—”

Just then the elevator dinged. Rather than pushing the UP button, Clytius stepped back from the controls, keeping their friends trapped inside.

“Leo!” Hazel yelled.

They were thirty feet away—much too far to reach the elevator—but Leo pulled out a screwdriver and chucked it like a throwing knife. An impossible shot. The screwdriver spun straight past Clytius and slammed into the UP button.

The Doors of Death opened with a hiss. Black smoke billowed out, and two figures stumbled out of the elevator. But it wasn’t Percy or Annabeth.

One was a ten foot tall Titan with wild silver hair. His eyes were also silver, and he wore a blue janitor’s uniform with a name tag that said “Bob”. A large cat—was that a saber-toothed?—peered out from behind his legs.

The other was taller at at least twenty feet tall. His skin was a bright cherry-red and his legs—oh gods, he had dragon legs and claws on his feet. The tell-tale sign of a giant.

Hazel’s heartbeat sped up. There was no way they could fight a second giant. And a Titan on top of that.

“No,” Leo gasped. “No, that was supposed to be Percy and Annabeth coming up. Who—who are they?”

“You are Percy and Annabeth’s friends?” the red giant asked.

Hazel stared defiantly at the giant. If this was her last moments, she would not show her fear. “Yes. What have you done to them?”

“They sent us to help you,” the giant said. “I am Damasen, this is Bob.” He looked at something off to the side. “Clytius! My brother. I assume you’re the one that needs fighting.”

_ Traitorous brother. _ Clytius’s words echoed through the room.  _ I doubt mother or father freed you. _

Damasen gave Clytius a rueful smile. “No. I freed myself. As for father, I doubt he’ll be doing much for quite some time. You see, we’ve just come from Tartarus. Bob and a couple demigod friends of ours just finished helping me, ah,  _ disperse _ father for a while.”

The saber-toothed growled. The Titan—Bob—patted it’s head.

“Small Bob does not like you,” he announced. “Neither does Percy Friend. He asked us to help his friends.”

“Sweet,” Leo said. “Percy’s sending the reinforcements. Looks like you’re out of luck, Clay man.” His hands blazed. He shot white-hot columns of flame at the giant, but Clytius’s smoky aura absorbed them on impact. Tendrils of black haze travelled back up the lines of fire, snuffing out the light and heat and covering Leo in darkness.

Leo fell to his knees, clutching at his throat.

“No!” Hazel ran towards him, but Gale chattered urgently on her shoulder—a clear warning.

“Get back, girl!” Damasen warned.

“You do not understand, Hazel Levesque,” Clytius said through Leo’s mouth. “I devour magic. I destroy the voice and the soul. You cannot oppose me.”

Black fog spread further across the room billowing towards Hazel.

Blood roared in Hazel’s ears. She had to act—but how? If that black smoke could incapacitate Leo so quickly, what chance did she have?

“F-fire,” she stammered in a small voice. “You’re supposed to be weak against it.”

The giant chuckled, still using Leo. “You were counting on that, eh? It is true I do not like fire. But Leo Valdez’s flames are not strong enough to trouble me.”

Somewhere behind Hazel, a soft, lyrical voice said, “What about my flames, old friend?”

Gale squeaked excitedly and jumped from Hazel’s shoulder, scampering to the entrance of the cavern where a blonde woman stood in a black dress, the Mist swirling around her.

The giant stumbled backwards, bumping into the Doors of Death.

“You,” he said from Leo’s mouth.

“Me,” Hecate agreed. She spread her arms. Blazing torches appeared in her hands. “It has been millennia since I fought at the side of a demigod, but Hazel Levesque has proven herself worthy. What do you say, Clytius? Shall we play with fire?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these were so late. I kind of procrastination A LOT today and I had a final due at midnight, so... I did that really quick.


	78. I Stall for Time (Hazel LXXVIII)

IF THE GIANT HAD RUN AWAY SCREAMING, Hazel would’ve been grateful. Then they all could have taken the rest of the day off.

Clytius disappointed her.

When he saw the goddess’s torches blazing, the giant seemed to recover his wits. He stomped his foot, shaking the floor. Dark smoke billowed around him. Hazel could see nothing but the giant’s gleaming eyes.

“Bold words.” Clytius spoke from Leo’s mouth. “You forget, goddess. When we last met, you had the help of Hercules and Dionysus—the most powerful heroes in the world, both of them destined to become gods. Now you bring… these?”

Leo’s unconscious body contorted in pain.

“Stop it!” Hazel yelled.

She didn’t plan what happened next. She simply knew she had to protect her friend. She imagined them behind her, the same way she’d imagined new tunnels appearing in Pasiphaë’s Labyrinth. Leo dissolved. He reappeared at Hazel’s feet. The Mist whirled around her, spilling over the stones and enveloping her friend. Where the white Mist met the dark smoke of Clytius, it steamed and sizzled, like lava rolling into the sea.

Leo opened his eyes and gasped. “Wh-what…?”

On Hecate’s shoulder, Gale the polecat barked with admiration.

The goddess stepped forward, her dark eyes glittering in the torchlight. “You’re right, Clytius. Hazel Levesque is not Hercules or Dionysus, but I think you will her find just as formidable.”

Leo tried to sit up. “What’s going on? What can I—”

“Stay behind me,” Hazel ordered, drawing her spatha. “Stay in the Mist.”

“But—”

“Listen to her,” Damasen said.

Leo gulped. “Yeah, got it. White Mist good. Black smoke bad.”

Hecate glanced over, a small smile on her lips. “Hello, Damasen. You’ve escaped at last.”

“Hecate,” Damasen said.

“And… Iapetus?” Hecate asked.

Bob frowned. “That was my name. But now I am Bob. I have a good cat.” He smiled down at the saber-toothed. “This is Small Bob.”

_It matters not,_ Clytius said, voice once again echoing through the room. _My brothers are powerless against me and weaponless. As for your formidable student, Hecate, you allow her to hide in your Mist._

A sword appeared in the giant’s hand—a Stygian iron blade much like Nico’s, except five times the size.

_I do not understand why Gaea would find any of these demigods worthy of sacrifice. I will crush them like empty nutshells._

Hazel’s fear turned to rage. She screamed. The walls of the chamber made a crackling sound like ice in warm water, and dozens of gems streaked towards the giant, punching through his armour like buckshot.

Clytius staggered backwards. His disembodied voice bellowed with pain. His iron breastplate was peppered with holes. Golden ichor trickled from a wound on his right arm. His shroud of darkness thinned. Hazel could see the murderous expression on his face.

_You,_ Clytius growled. _You worthless—_

“Worthless?” Hecate asked quietly. “I’d say Hazel Levesque knows a few tricks even I could not teach her.”

Hazel stood in front of her friends, determined to protect them, but her energy was fading. Her sword was already heavy in her hand, and she hadn’t even swung it yet. She wished Arion were here. She could use the horse’s speed and strength. Unfortunately, her equine friend would not be able to help her this time. He was a creature of the wide-open spaces, not the underground.

The giant dug his fingers into the wound on his biceps. He pulled out a diamond and flicked it aside. The wound closed.

_So, daughter of Pluto,_ Clytius rumbled, _do you really believe Hecate has your interests at heart? Circe was a favourite of hers. And Medea. And Pasiphaë. How did they end up, eh?_

Clytius stepped forward, holding his sword casually at his side as if they were comrades rather than enemies. _Hecate will not tell you the truth. She sends acolytes like you to do her bidding and take all the risk. If by some miracle you incapacitate me, only then will she be able to set me on fire. Then she will claim the glory of the kill. You heard how Bacchus dealt with the Alodai twins in the Colosseum. Hecate is worse. She is a Titan who betrayed the Titans. Then she betrayed the gods. Do you really think she will keep faith with you?_

Hecate’s face was unreadable.

“I cannot answer his accusations, Hazel,” said the goddess. “This is your crossroads. You must choose.”

_Yes, crossroads._ The giant’s laughter echoed. His wounds seemed to have healed completely. _Hecate offers you obscurity, choices, vague promises of magic. I am the anti-Hecate. I will give you truth. I will eliminate choices and magic. I will strip away the Mist, once and for all, and show you the world in all its true horror._

Leo struggled to his feet, coughing like an asthmatic. “I’m loving this guy,” he wheezed. “Seriously, we should keep him around for inspirational seminars.” His hands ignited like blowtorches. “Or I could just light him up.”

“Leo, no,” Hazel said. “My father’s temple. My call.”

“Yeah, okay. But—”

“Stay with Leo,” Hazel told the giant and the Titan. “Percy and Annabeth… they aren’t coming up, are they?”

Bob looked sad. “No.”

Hazel nodded. She expected that. With Nico’s less than subtle subject changes and the appearance of Percy and Annabeth’s Titan and giant friends, it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. They had gone in. They didn’t expect to come back through the Doors. And they were okay with that.

Speaking of the Doors...

Hazel inhaled sharply. The Doors of Death were still open, shuddering against the chains that held them in place. Hazel had to cut them free so they would disappear—and finally be beyond Gaea’s reach.

The only problem: a big smoky giant stood in her way.

_You can’t seriously believe you have the strength,_ Clytius chided. _What will you do, Hazel Levesque—pelt me with more rubies? Shower me with sapphires?_

Hazel gave him an answer. She raised her spatha and charged.

Apparently, Clytius hadn’t expected her to be quite so suicidal. He was slow raising his sword. By the time he slashed, Hazel had ducked between his legs and jabbed her Imperial gold blade into his gluteus maximus. Not very ladylike. The nuns at St Agnes would never have approved. But it worked.

Clytius roared and arched his back, waddling away from her. Mist still swirled around Hazel, hissing as it met the giant’s black smoke.

Hazel realized that Hecate was assisting her—lending her the strength to keep up a defensive shroud. Hazel also knew that the instant her own concentration wavered and that darkness touched her, she would collapse. If that happened, she wasn’t sure Hecate would be able—or willing—to stop the giant from crushing her and her friends.

Hazel sprinted towards the Doors of Death. Her blade shattered the chains on the left side like they were made of ice. She lunged to the right, but Clytius yelled, _NO!_

By sheer luck, she wasn’t cut in half. The flat of the giant’s blade caught her in the chest and sent her flying. She slammed into the wall and felt bones crack.

Across the room, Leo screamed her name.

Through her blurry vision, she saw a flash of fire. Hecate stood nearby, her form shimmering as if she were about to dissolve. Her torches seemed to be flickering out, but it might just have been that Hazel was starting to lose consciousness.

She couldn’t give up now. She forced herself to stand. Her side felt like it was embedded with razor blades. Her sword lay on the ground about five feet away. She staggered towards it.

“Clytius!” she shouted.

She meant it to sound like a brave challenge, but it came out as more of a croak.

At least it got his attention. The giant turned from Leo and the others. When he saw her limping forward, he laughed.

_A good try, Hazel Levesque,_ Clytius admitted. _You did better than I anticipated. But magic alone cannot defeat me, and you do not have sufficient strength. Hecate has failed you, as she fails all of her followers in the end. My brothers, you have seen how weak the demigods are. To stand with them would be a fruitless cause._

The Mist around her was thinning. At the other end of the room, Leo was glaring at Clytius. He looked tiny compared to the huge forms of Bob and Damasen.

“No, brother,” Damasen said softly. “I don’t believe the demigods are weak at all.”

Hazel threw her sword—not at Clytius, but at the Doors of Death. The chains on the right side shattered. Hazel collapsed in agony, her side burning, as the Doors shuddered and disappeared in a flash of purple light.

Clytius roared so loudly that a half-dozen stelae fell from the ceiling and shattered.

“That was for my brother, Nico,” Hazel gasped. “And Percy. And Annabeth. And for destroying my father’s altar.”

_You have forfeited your right to a quick death,_ the giant snarled. _I will suffocate you in darkness, slowly, painfully. Hecate cannot help you. NO ONE can help you!_

The goddess raised her torches. “I would not be so certain, Clytius. Hazel’s friends simply needed a little time to reach her—time you have given them with your boasting and bragging.”

Clytius snorted. _What friends? These weaklings? They are no challenge._

In front of Hazel, the air rippled. The Mist thickened, creating a doorway, and six people stepped through.

Hazel wept with relief. Frank’s arm was bleeding and bandaged, but he was alive. Next to him stood Nico, Magnus, Alex, Piper, and Jason—all with their swords drawn. Well, Alex had his garrote drawn.

“Sorry we’re late,” Jason said. “Is this the guy who needs killing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the battle begin!
> 
> Also... Do you guys know how cool that reveal at the end is going to look if we get a Heroes of Olympus series? Like just imagine it. There's white Mist and out of it steps Frank, Jason, Piper, and Nico looking like they just got run over by an army of monsters, but that just makes them look even more cool. And then Jason steps up and delivers his line. Like....! Yes! I really hope this happens.


	79. We Have an Unexpected Visitor (Hazel LXXIX)

HAZEL ALMOST FELT SORRY FOR CLYTIUS.

They attacked him from every direction—Leo shooting fire at his legs, Frank and Piper jabbing at his chest, Jason flying into the air and kicking him in the face. Hazel was proud to see how well Piper remembered her sword-fighting lessons.

Each time the giant’s smoky veil started creeping around one of them, Nico was there, slashing through it, drinking in the darkness with his Stygian blade.

Magnus still looked terrible, but some of the color had returned to his face since Hazel had last seen him before she and Leo were separated. He had Jack in his hand and he joined Frank and Piper in jabbing at Clytius.

“Hey, señor!” Jack called. “Are you feeling happy?”

“Jack, I swear if you start singing that  _ damn _ song—”

“Huh, because I'm happy,” Jack sang. “Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof. Because I'm happy. Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth.”

“Sing it, Jack!” Alex yelled. He turned into a hawk and flew up high. Then dramatically changed directions to divebomb Clytius.

“Because I'm happy,” Jack continued as Magnus stabbed him into the giant. “Clap along if you know what happiness is to you. Because I'm happy. Clap along if you feel like that's what you wanna do.”

Clytius snarled, turning back and forth as if he couldn’t decide which of them to kill first.  _ Wait! Hold still! No! Ouch! Stop singing that ridiculous song! _

The darkness around him dispelled completely, leaving nothing to protect him except his battered armour. Ichor oozed from a dozen wounds. The damage healed almost as fast as it was inflicted, but Hazel could tell the giant was tiring.

One last time Jason flew at him, kicking him in the chest, and the giant’s breastplate shattered. Clytius staggered backwards. His sword dropped to the floor. He fell to his knees, and the demigods encircled him.

Only then did Hecate step forward, her torches raised. Mist curled around the giant, hissing and bubbling as it touched his skin.

“And so it ends,” Hecate said.

_ It does not end. _ Clytius’s voice echoed from somewhere above, muffled and slurred.  _ My brethren have risen. Gaea waits only for the blood of Olympus. It took all of you together to defeat me. What will you do when the Earth Mother opens her eyes? _

Hecate turned her torches upside down. She thrust them like daggers at Clytius’s head. The giant’s hair went up faster than dry tinder, spreading down his head and across his body until the heat of the bonfire made Hazel wince. Clytius fell without a sound, face-first into the rubble of Hades’s altar. His body crumbled to ashes.

For a moment, no one spoke. Hazel heard a ragged, painful noise and realized it was her own breathing. Her side felt like it had been kicked in with a battering ram.

The goddess Hecate faced her. “You should go now, Hazel Levesque. Lead your friends out of this place.”

Hazel gritted her teeth, trying to hold in her anger. “Just like that? No ‘thank you’? No ‘good work’?”

The goddess tilted her head. Gale the weasel chittered—maybe a goodbye, maybe a warning—and disappeared in the folds of her mistress’s skirts.

“You look in the wrong place for gratitude,” Hecate said. “As for ‘good work’, that remains to be seen. Speed your way to Athens. Clytius was not wrong. The giants have risen—all of them, stronger than ever. Gaea is on the very edge of waking. The Feast of Hope will be poorly named unless you arrive to stop her.”

The chamber rumbled. Another stela crashed to the floor and shattered.

“The House of Hades is unstable,” Hecate said. “Leave now. We shall meet again.”

The goddess dissolved. The Mist evaporated.

“Wait,” Piper said. “Where’s…?” she trailed off.

Nico looked over. “Bob? You’re here!” he shouted.

“Hello, Nico Friend,” Bob said.

“You know them?” Alex demanded. “Isn’t that a giant? Giant equals bad?”

Nico shook his head. “This is Bob. He’s a Titan. And the giant is Damasen. He’s… well, he’s not our enemy.”

Hazel balled her fists. “You said Percy sent you to help us!” she shouted. “Thanks for that? You couldn’t have done  _ anything _ to defeat Clytius?”

“Bob and I have no weapons,” Damasen said lowly. “Had we gotten into a fist fight with Clytius, one of you—most likely all of you—would have been seriously hurt or killed. We did what we could. Or have you not noticed that none of you are injured anymore?”

Hazel blinked. She looked down at herself and then at the rest of her friends. Their clothes were torn and burnt, but where they should have been wounds, there was nothing but healed skin.

“Thanks, Bob,” Nico said.

The ceiling shuddered. Cracks appeared in the remaining tiles. Columns of dust spilled down.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Jason said. “Uh, Frank…?”

Frank shook his head. “I think one favor from the dead is all I can manage today.”

“Wait, what?” Hazel asked.

Piper raised her eyebrows. “Your unbelievable boyfriend called in a favour as a child of Mars. He summoned the spirits of some dead warriors, made them lead us here through… um, well, I’m not sure, actually. The passages of the dead? All I know is that it was very, very dark.”

To their left, a section of the wall split. Two ruby eyes from a carved stone skeleton popped out and rolled across the floor.

“No worries,” Nico said. “We’ll shadow travel.”

“But what about Percy and Annabeth?” Piper protested. “They were supposed to be here! Where are they?”

Magnus’s jaw clenched. Alex reached out and took his hand. Nico dropped his gaze to the floor.

“I’ll explain later,” he said. “But right now we have to go. Hazel, you’ll have to help me. And Bob, do you think you can, like, power us or something?”

“I will try,” Bob nodded.

Nico looked at Hazel. “You ready?”

“Yep.” She tried to sound confident. She’d never shadow-travelled before, had no idea if she could, but after working with the Mist, altering the Labyrinth—she had to believe it was possible.

An entire section of tiles peeled loose from the ceiling.

“Everyone, grab hands!” Nico yelled.

They made a hasty circle. Hazel envisioned the Greek countryside above them. The cavern collapsed, and she felt herself dissolving into shadow.

* * *

They appeared on the hillside overlooking the River Acheron. The sun was just rising, making the water glitter and the clouds glow orange. The cool morning air smelled of honeysuckle.

Hazel was holding hands with Frank on her left, Nico on her right. They were all alive and mostly whole. The sunlight in the trees was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She wanted to live in that moment—free of monsters and gods and evil spirits.

Then her friends began to stir.

“That was awesome,” Alex said, eyes glinting. “Dude, I want to shadow travel  _ everywhere _ now.”

“It’s not always as fun as it sounds,” Nico warned. He stumbled a little and sat on the ground. “And it drains me. A lot.”

Leo staggered backwards. “Drains you… You know… I think I’ll sit down.”

He collapsed. The others joined him. The  _ Argo II _ still floated over the river a few hundred yards away. Hazel knew that they should signal Coach Hedge and tell him they were alive. Had they been in the temple all night? Or several nights? But at the moment the group was too tired to do anything except sit and relax and marvel at the fact that they were okay. Mostly.

“Owie,” Bob said, placing a hand on Nico’s shoulder. His hand glowed.

Nico looked more awake after that. “Thank you, Bob. Um, did Percy tell you—”

“That I used to be Iapetus?” Bob asked. He nodded. “Yes. He told me.”

“I’m sorry,” Nico said. “I would have told you, but… Percy wanted to be the one to do it.”

“It is okay,” Bob shrugged. “I like Bob. And Small Bob.” He picked up his cat.

“Someone going to explain the Titan and the giant?” Jason asked. “And, uh, tell us where Percy and Annabeth are?”

Nico took a deep breath. “Percy and Annabeth never meant to leave through the Doors. Annabeth was looking for other ways out of Tartarus. She and Percy are going to do that and hopefully meet us in Athens. That’s part of the reason I was down there. I was trying to scout out some exits.”

Piper blinked back tears. “They could have left through the Doors. Why didn’t they come with you?” she asked accusatively at the Titan and the giant.

“When you use the Doors of Death,” Damasen explained, “many can go in the elevator, but there must be one person who holds the button for twelve minutes. In this case, an extra person is needed to defend the one pushing the button. When we left, Annabeth was pushing the button while Percy defended her.”

“But—”

“They refused to leave,” Damasen said. “Either Bob and I went, or no one would go. They made up their mind long before our paths crossed. I could see that.”

“What will you do, now that you are free?” Nico asked quickly. “Where will you go?”

Damasen looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I will meet you again. At the end. You say Percy and Annabeth will meet you in Athens? I would very much like to see them again.”

“And you Bob?”

“I would like to see the world,” Bob admitted. “But I will come back to help you fight the giants.” He looked over at the sun and gave it a child-like smile. “Hello! Hello, sun! Percy and Annabeth say hello!”

Nico made a choking noise. Hazel looked over at him in concern, but Nico waved her off.

“The crew of the  _ Argo II _ will see you in Athens in a few weeks,” Nico said in a slightly strangled voice. “Thank you, Bob. Damasen. Thank you for… for everything.”

They watched as the two giant figures waved and walked up and over the hills.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Piper asked in a small voice. “I thought… I thought we were going to save them.”

“They didn’t want you to know,” Nico said. “Look. I told you Annabeth spent the last year working on a way to escape. She and Percy are going to get out of there and they are going to meet us in Athens.”

“What happens next?” Alex asked.

Nico met his eyes. “I left notes in Magnus’s room. I figured Percy and Annabeth wouldn’t be back, even if I hoped they would be. It’s got instructions and everything.”

“You aren’t coming with us,” Jason said.

Nico shook his head. “I have something to do. It’s pretty important. Reyna… she should be here soon. It’ll be up to me to shadow travel her and the statue back to Camp Half-Blood before the war between the Greeks and the Romans can begin. I can’t stay here.”

Hazel nodded sadly. “Yeah. Okay. Just… be careful? Don’t die?”

“Between you, Bianca, and Will, I’m pretty sure if I died, you three would figure out a way to bring me back so you can kill me,” Nico grinned. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. But I do believe Frank has some news.”

“Oh?” Hazel asked, looking at Frank.

Frank blushed. He explained what had happened with the ghostly legion and the army of monsters—how Nico had used the scepter of Diocletian and how bravely Magnus, Alex, Jason, and Piper had fought.

“Frank is being modest,” Jason said. “He controlled the entire legion. You should’ve seen him. Oh, by the way…” Jason trailed off with a distant look before he continued, “I resigned my office, gave Frank a field promotion to praetor.”

“Praetor?” Hazel stared at Frank.

He shrugged uncomfortably. “Well… yeah. I know it seems weird.”

She tried to throw her arms around him and kissed him. “It seems perfect.”

Leo clapped Frank on the shoulder. “Way to go, Zhang. Now you can order Octavian to fall on his sword.”

“Tempting,” Frank agreed.

“Hey.” Magnus pointed to the river. He was looking more like his normal self now that they were out of the presence of the Doors of Death. “I think our ride is coming.”

Hazel turned. The  _ Argo II _ veered to port, its aerial oars in motion, its sails catching the wind. Festus’s head glinted in the sunlight. Even from a distance, Hazel could hear him creaking and clanking in jubilation.

“That’s my boy!” Leo yelled.

As the ship got closer, Hazel saw Coach Hedge standing at the prow.

“About time!” the coach yelled down. He was doing his best to scowl, but his eyes gleamed as if maybe, just maybe, he was happy to see them. “What took you so long, cupcakes? You kept your visitors waiting!”

“Visitors?” Nico repeated. “Plural?”

At the rail next to Coach Hedge, a dark-haired girl appeared wearing a purple cloak, her face so covered with soot and bloody scratches that Hazel almost didn’t recognize her. Reyna.

And on Coach Hedge’s other side, a girl Hazel had only ever seen in an Iris Message. A girl with olive skin and dark hair like Nico’s. Bianca di Angelo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bianca has arrived!
> 
> Ahhh, almost done! Four more chapters left!


	80. I Do a Little Snooping (Bianca LXXX)

THE FLIGHT TO EPIRUS WAS NERVE-WRACKING TO SAY THE LEAST.

Allegra woke Bianca up early in the morning on the seventeenth. The two girls slipped through the dark camp ground, avoiding the harpies. When they reached the stables, Allegra handed Bianca a backpack.

“I’ve packed each of us a bag just in case,” she said. “Butch is going to cover for me. Hopefully I’m back around noon tomorrow.”

Bianca snorted. “That’s likely.”

“It is,” Allegra grinned. She patted one of the pegasi. “Here’s our ride. Let me get them hooked up to the chariot and then we’re off.”

Allegra made quick work of attaching the pegasi to the flying chariot. Bianca’s heart raced every time she heard a noise, fearing they were about to be caught.

By the time the chariot was up in the air, Bianca was sure she was one jumpscare away from a heart attack.

“Loosen up!” Allegra called back from the reins. “I need you alert if you’re going to shoot down all the baddies that might attack us. But if we’re lucky, they’ll be mostly concerned about the Seven and they won’t bother us.”

“Nico’s with the Seven,” Bianca protested. “Gods, I can’t… If my brother is hurt or worse, I’m going to kill him.”

Allegra was silent for a moment. All Bianca could hear was the roaring of the wind.

“He’ll be okay,” she said finally. “Nico’s tough. He’ll make it through. Don’t worry about him, Bianca. You’ll see.”

“It’s my job to worry about him,” Bianca said. “You worry about Ethan because he’s your cousin and you love him. He worries about you too.”

“Yeah,” Allegra said. “He’s like my brother really. I grew up with him after my dad died. Ethan helped me get through that.”

“I’m sorry,” Bianca said.

Allegra shrugged. “Not a big deal. It was a while ago. When I found out I was a demigod… that helped too. I knew there was a place my dad was going. Even if it was Asphodel.”

“You don’t think he’s in Elysium?”

“He was an average person,” Allegra said. “He didn’t do anything bad, but he wasn’t a hero. I mean, he was  _ my _ hero, but… I’m just happy I know he’s somewhere and it’s not a horrible place. Not hell, not Punishment, not whatever.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway. That’s my backstory, I guess.”

They rode on in silence for hours. Glittering blue water spread out far below them. Bianca peered over the edge of the chariot.

“I hope Zeus doesn’t strike me down,” she muttered.

“According to Percy, pegasi and by extension this chariot are neutral grounds,” Allegra said. She looked sheepish. “Well, for children of Poseidon anyway which, I guess is because he created horses. But I’m sure it’s fine for children of Hades too,” she added quickly.

Bianca took a deep breath. “Yeah. It’s fine. Absolutely.”

* * *

The pegasi had drifted from the path Allegra had charted. Neither of the girls understood why. But the horses were adamantly refusing to head towards Spain and Africa to enter the Mediterranean. Instead, they flew up towards France and then down through Italy.

The sun had set hours ago, marking the end of July 17th and the beginning of the 18th. They still hadn’t reached Epirus.

“How much longer?” Bianca called.

Allegra stifled a yawn. “We just cleared the Italian coast a while back. Greece should be coming up soon. There!” She pointed ahead.

Bianca looked over Allegra’s shoulder to see where her friend was pointing. Amidst the darkness, she could see the Greek coastline.

“This House of Hades or whatever,” Allegra said. “Where is it? I can get us to Epirus no problem, but after that…”

“Necromanteion, House of Hades, it’s the same thing,” Bianca said. She squinted into the distance. “I should be able to sense it.”

A streak of black lightning in the distance.

“Or we could just head for the creepy lightning,” Allegra said.

Bianca’s eyes stayed glued to the spot the lightning came from. “Or we could do that.”

* * *

They found the source of the lightning. An old building site that Bianca vaguely remembered Nico telling her mortals found and thought was the site of the Necromanteion, but dismissed the idea before they’d gone deep enough to find the actual place.

A short ways away, the  _ Argo II _ hovered in the air.

“There!” Bianca said. “Set us down there!”

Allegra shouted a command to the pegasi who dove towards the deck. The landing was rough, but they were here, and they were alive.

Bianca had just let out a breath of relief when the cabin door burst open and an angry satyr with a baseball bat ran out.

“Who’s there!” he shouted. “Show yourselves!”

Bianca had drawn her bow instinctively, but she lowered it when she saw the satyr’s face. “Coach Hedge?” she called.

Coach Hedge eyed her suspiciously. “Who’s asking?”

“Bianca,” she said. “Bianca di Angelo. I’m Nico’s sister.”

“And Allegra Nakamura,” Allegra added. “Uh, I’m not Nico’s sister, but I’m friends with Bianca.”

Coach Hedge lowered his bat slightly. “What are you two doing here?”

“I’m here for my brother,” Bianca said. “He’s doing dangerous stuff and I’d die again before I see him get himself killed. And since I can’t stop him, I’m going to do my damndest to protect him by helping him out.”

“I can respect that,” Coach Hedge said.

“Where are they?” Allegra asked.

The satyr nodded his head in the direction of the building site. “Fighting to reach the Doors of Death.”

“Great. Let’s go.” Bianca turned around to find a way from the boat to the ground. A hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

“Not happening, cupcake,” Coach Hedge said. “First of all, they don’t know you’re coming. If you get lost trying to find them, they won’t know to get you out of there. Secondly, according to Mellie, you two are missing and Chiron is freaking out about it. You’re lucky this little stunt of yours didn’t kickstart the battle between the Greeks and the Romans early. I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know you’re safely back at Camp Half-Blood.” He examined Bianca and Allegra closely. “And third, have you gotten any sleep recently?”

“What time is it?” Allegra asked.

Hedge raised an eyebrow. “3:00 AM. Greece time anyway. That’s 8:00 PM for New York.”

“We got up at 4:00,” Allegra said. “Took us sixteen hours to get here.”

“Then get below and take a nap until those cupcakes get back,” Coach Hedge ordered. “I’ve got to message Camp and let them know where you are.”

“Do you have to?” Allegra winced. “Ethan’s going to be so mad I didn’t bring him. I’ll be back tomorrow. I was just dropping Bianca off.”

“Sorry, cupcake,” Hedge said. “We’ve got one extra cabin. You two are going to be taking a nap in that cabin.”

“I can’t sleep until I know my brother is safe!” Bianca protested.

Coach Hedge sighed. “Then sit in the room awake. They’ll get back when they get back. I don’t want to explain to di Angelo why his little sister is dead again when he gets back.”

“I’m not his  _ little _ sister!”

Allegra gave Bianca an apologetic smile. “He’s right. You can’t just run in there. Nico doesn’t know you were coming.”

Bianca scowled. “I hate that you’re right. Fine. We’ll rest. Lead the way, Coach.”

Coach Hedge led them down below-decks. A hallway of doors greeted them.

“Alex,” Hedge said, pointing to the first door on the left. He pointed to the one across from it. “Frank. Piper. Leo. Jason. That’s mine. Annabeth. Magnus. Hazel. Nico. Percy. And this one,” he said pausing outside the very last door on the right, “this is the extra room.”

Bianca hesitated. “You said that one is my brother’s cabin?” she asked, pointing at the door next to the extra room.

“Hmm? Yeah,” Coach Hedge said. He frowned. “Should probably put signs on the doors eventually.”

“I just want a minute, please,” Bianca said. She turned the handle to Nico’s room.

The door opened to a pretty plain room. Bianca hadn’t been part of the building process for the  _ Argo II _ , but she had gotten to see the final product before the demigods set sail. Nico hadn’t done much to make his cabin his own.

Well, aside from the various bones that were scattered on the shelves and floor. And the jar of pomegranate seeds on his nightstand.

Bianca doubted the crew had time to stop at Sherwin Williams to buy paint to personalize the walls, but she imagined that if they had, Nico would have painted his cabin as black as the Hades cabin at Camp Half-Blood. The room’s temperature was as cold as the cabin too.

She turned to leave when she noticed something sticking out from under the jar of seeds. Bianca lifted the jar to find polaroid pictures.

The top picture was of Nico, Cecil Markowitz from Hermes, and Lou Ellen Blackstone from Hecate. Nico had scrawled  _ Will found his polaroid camera. I told him it was older than me. He said I was about thirty years off the mark. Lou and Cecil were confused. _

Bianca smiled as she shuffled the pictures. The next one was blurry, but she could just make out Will and Nico sitting at the campfire. This one said  _ Will had the  _ great  _ idea to ask Percy to take this. Hence the blurriness. _

The last picture was of her and Nico. There were two different handwritings.  _ Here’s to second chances. _ It was a messy scrawl that Bianca assumed was Will’s. The other was Nico’s.  _ What a dork. He’s really just exposing himself as a stalker. How are you getting all these pictures? _

Bianca set the pictures back down under the jar. She exited the room and shut the door behind her before heading back to the extra room.

Allegra was fast asleep when Bianca entered the room. It didn’t take long for Bianca to join her friend in the blissful comfort of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, the cabin order goes:  
> Left side: Alex, Piper, Jason, Annabeth, Hazel, Percy  
> Right side: Frank, Leo Coach, Magnus, Nico, Extra


	81. My Brother Isn't Happy (Bianca LXXXI)

BIANCA WOKE UP TO A TUG IN HER GUT and a loud pounding on the door.

“Intruder!” Coach Hedge screamed.

Allegra jumped up, but got tangled in the sheets and fell to the floor with a loud  _ thump _ . Bianca wasn’t tangled, but she rolled over onto a space where the bed ended and fell to the floor.

“Gah, catch!” Allegra said, tossing Bianca a quiver full of Stygian iron tipped arrows and a black bow. As much as Bianca loathed her brother’s affinity for an all black aesthetic, she had to admit the black bow and quiver went  _ really _ good with anything.

“What’s going on?” Bianca asked as she and Allegra burst out of the room.

“INTRUDER!” Coach Hedge screamed in their faces. He raised his baseball bat and charged down the hall and above deck. “AHHHHHH!”

Bianca and Allegra exchanged a look. The hurried after the coach to make sure he wasn’t trying to kill the Seven or get himself killed.

When they got onto the deck, they saw a dark figure kneeling on the ground. Monster dust covered the ground in front of the figure. Soft sobs were coming from the figure.

“Coach, wait!” Bianca called.

The figure whirled around, a flash of gold in their hand.

“Whoa!” Bianca said, jumping back and drawing an arrow. “Who are you?”

The figure came closer warily. “Reyna Ramírez-Arellano,” she announced. “Praetor of the Twelfth Legion.”

Bianca lowered her bow and stuck the arrow back in her quiver. She stepped closer to Reyna. “I sense death.” She looked at the monster dust. “Who was it? They were very special to you.”

Reyna looked away. “Scipio,” she said after a moment. “My pegasus.” She looked at the two pegasi that were still attached to the flying chariot. “I… I’m sorry, I think I alarmed them. Scipio… we encountered many monsters.” Her voice cracked. “I… He was too wounded. Beyond healing.”

Bianca gently touched her arm. “You did what you had to. He isn’t hurting anymore.”

Reyna took a shuddering breath. “Where… where are the Seven? Who are you?”

Allegra gave Reyna a small smile. “We’re from Camp Half-Blood. I’m Allegra Nakamura, daughter of Iris.”

“Bianca di Angelo,” Bianca said. “Daughter of Hades. Nico’s my brother. He’s in danger and I needed to be here.”

“That is admirable,” Reyna said. Her eyes landed on Coach Hedge. “And the faun?”

“Satyr,” Hedge snapped. “Gleeson Hedge. I’m the protector of those cupcakes. They’re in the House of Hades right now. They’ll be back soon.”

Bianca didn’t think Hedge knew that for sure. She was guessing the demigods had gone to the House of Hades the night before, but it was sunrise the next day and they still weren’t back. She couldn’t help feeling worried about her brother. Sure, Nico had done this once before, but that didn’t guarantee anything. Not even a time traveler could account for every single variable.

A sudden jerk of the boat pulled Bianca from her thoughts.

“Where are we going?” Reyna demanded.

Coach Hedge patted the dragon head at the front of the ship. “Going to save those cupcakes’  _ braccae _ .”

The ship sailed through the air towards the House of Hades. Bianca peered over the rail to see a group of demigods gathered on the grass below.

“About time!” Coach Hedge yelled. Bianca thought she could detect relief in his voice. “What took you so long, cupcakes? You kept your visitors waiting!”

* * *

Nico hadn’t been happy with Bianca.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Bianca crossed her arms. “Really? You expect me to sit back and do  _ nothing _ when Camp gets a note from Annabeth saying that she and Percy are in Tartarus and you…” she trailed off. “Gods, Nico, I was so worried about you. And Will…”

Nico’s dark eyes flicked over to meet her’s. “How is he?”

“He’s taking out his anger on Michael and Clarisse,” Bianca said.

Allegra snorted. “They are going to be  _ sooo _ mad when I get back with the chariot.”

“They’re still on about that?” Nico rolled his eyes. He sighed. “I’m sorry I worried you, Bianca. But I’m fine.”

“I know that, but—”

They were interrupted by the plunking of a statue onto the grass.

Leo had used his mechanical system to lower the Athena Parthenos onto the hillside with surprising ease. Now the forty-foot-tall goddess gazed serenely over the River Acheron, her gold dress like molten metal in the sun.

“Incredible,” Reyna admitted.

She was still red-eyed from crying. Bianca and Allegra didn’t say anything. Reyna told Jason what had happened, but even that had been a struggle.

Instead, Reyna occupied herself with examining the statue.

“It looks newly made,” she said.

“Yeah,” Leo said. “We brushed off the cobwebs, used a little Windex. It wasn’t hard.”

The  _ Argo II _ hovered just overhead. With Festus keeping watch for threats on the radar, the entire crew had decided to eat lunch on the hillside while they discussed what to do.

“Reyna,” Jason called. “Sit with us.” He glanced at Nico. “I have a feeling we have a lot to discuss.”

Reyna hesitantly sat down next to Jason and Hazel. “Alright.” She picked up a cheese sandwich and nibbled at the edge.

“First,” Nico said. “Bianca, this is Hazel. Hazel, this is Bianca.”

Hazel beamed. “Oh, it’s so good to meet you in person. Nico talked about you a lot.”

“You did?” Bianca asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nico shrugged. “I wanted my sisters to know each other. I’m only sorry my promise to dad wouldn’t let me tell you about Hazel.”

“I get to learn about her now,” Bianca said. She looked at Hazel. “We’ll have to do some Underworld kid family bonding after the war.”

“I would love that,” Hazel said.

“Second, uh, Jason?” Nico prompted.

Jason blinked. “Oh, yeah. I made Frank praetor.”

Frank shifted, wiping crumbs from his chin. “Well, yeah. Field promotion. I was the only Roman there.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jason said. “You were great.” He turned to Reyna. “We got the scepter of Diocletian. It summoned a whole legion of ghosts. Frank commanded them all, you should have seen him.”

“He was amazing,” Piper agreed.

“Frank is a leader,” Hazel insisted. “He makes a great praetor.”

Reyna’s eyes stayed on Frank, like she was trying to guess his weight. “I believe you,” she said. “I approve.”

Frank blinked. “You do?”

Reyna smiled dryly. “A son of Mars, the hero who helped to bring back the eagle of the legion… I can work with a demigod like that. I’m just wondering how to convince the Twelfth Fulminata.”

Frank scowled. “Yeah. I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

“Uh, aren’t you the leader?” Alex interrupted. “Don’t they have to listen to you?”

Reyna chewed her sandwich as if it were cardboard. “I broke the laws by traveling here.”

“Caesar broke the law when he crossed the Rubicon,” Frank said. “Great leaders have to think outside the box sometimes.”

She shook her head. “I’m not Caesar. After finding Jason’s note in Diocletian’s Palace, tracking you down was easy. I only did what I thought was necessary.” She cleared her throat. “But, ah, where are Percy and Annabeth? Did you…” she trailed off at the solemn looks.

“They weren’t there,” Magnus said quietly. “They closed the Doors, but… they didn’t make it out.”

“They’re still alive,” Nico said. “I would have felt it if they died. I wouldn’t give up on them yet. When they’re together… well, I wouldn’t bet against them.”

Bianca knew that Annabeth had been trying to figure a way to find the Labyrinth entrance in Tartarus. The daughter of Athena had never told her how it went, but she knew Nico was right. If there was another way out of Tartarus, Percy and Annabeth could find it.

Leo pulled a tiny screwdriver from his tool belt. He stabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry and passed it to Coach Hedge. Then he pulled out another screwdriver and speared a second strawberry for himself.

“Serious question though,” Leo said. “The twenty-million-peso question. We got this slightly used forty-foot-tall statue of Athena. What do we do with it?”

Reyna squinted at the Athena Parthenos. “As fine as it looks on this hill, I didn’t come all this way to admire it. According to… Annabeth, it must be returned to Camp Half-Blood by a Roman leader. Do I understand correctly?”

“That’s right,” Nico confirmed. “The information I’ve gotten on the statue points to that being the only way for this to end peacefully.”

“My cousin Ethan is a son of Nemesis,” Allegra said. “He claims that his mom told him there’s something that can restore the peace. We guessed it was the statue after we got Annabeth’s note. I have to agree with Nico. Reyna has to be the one to bring the statue back.”

“The statue is a powerful symbol,” Nico said. “A Roman returning it to the Greeks… that would absolutely heal the historic rift, even heal the gods of their split personalities.”

Coach Hedge swallowed his strawberry along with half the screwdriver. “Now, hold on. I like peace as much as the next satyr—”

“You hate peace,” Leo said.

“The point is, Valdez, we’re only—what, a few days from Athens? We’ve got an army of giants waiting for us there. We went to all the trouble of saving this statue—”

“Annabeth did,” Magnus corrected.

“—because that prophecy called it the giants’ bane,” the coach continued. “So why aren’t we taking it to Athens with us? It’s obviously our secret weapon.” He eyed the Athena Parthenos. “It looks like a ballistic missile to me. Maybe if Valdez strapped some engines to it—”

Piper cleared her throat. “Uh, great idea, Coach, but a lot of us have had dreams and visions of Gaea rising at Camp Half-Blood. Plus, Nico’s intel.”

She unsheathed her dagger Katoptris and set it on her plate. At the moment, the blade showed nothing except sky.

“Since we got back to the ship,” Piper said, “I’ve been seeing some bad stuff in the knife. The Roman legion is almost within striking distance of Camp Half-Blood. They’re gathering reinforcements: spirits, eagles, wolves.”

“Octavian,” Reyna growled. “I told him to wait.”

“When we take over command,” Frank suggested, “our first order of business should be to load Octavian into the nearest catapult and fire him as far away as possible.”

Nico choked. “What?”

Leo looked at Nico. “Please tell me you don’t actually like Octavian.”

“No, I hate him,” Nico said, making a face. “Please never insinuate I could possibly…  _ like _ Octavian. I was just… surprised by what Frank said.”

Piper turned the blade of her knife. “Well, unfortunately, that’s not the worst of it. I saw images of a possible future—the camp in flames, Roman and Greek demigods lying dead. And Gaea…” Her voice failed her.

“So Reyna takes the statue,” Alex said. “And we continue on to Athens.”

Leo shrugged. “Cool with me. But, uh, a few pesky logistical problems. We got what—two weeks until that Roman feast day when Gaea is supposed to rise?”

“The Feast of Spes,” Jason said. “That’s on the first of August. Today is—”

“July eighteenth,” Frank offered. “So, yeah, from tomorrow, exactly fourteen days.”

Hazel winced. “It took us eighteen days to get from Rome to here—a trip that should’ve only taken two or three days, max.”

“So, given our usual luck,” Leo said, “maybe we have enough time to get the  _ Argo II _ to Athens, find the giants, and stop them from waking Gaea. Maybe. But how is Reyna supposed to get this massive statue back to Camp Half-Blood before the Greeks and Romans put each other through the blender? She doesn’t even have her pegasus any more. Uh, sorry—”

“Fine,” Reyna snapped. She took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, Leo is correct. I don’t see how I can transport something so large. I was assuming—well, I was hoping you all would have an answer.”

“The Labyrinth,” Hazel said. “I—I mean, if Pasiphaë really has reopened it, and I think she has…” She looked at Nico apprehensively. “The Labyrinth could take us anywhere, right?”

“Not happening,” Nico said. “First of all, the Labyrinth is dangerous. Daedalus created it to be a living, growing maze. Over the centuries it’s spread under the entire surface of the world. It  _ can _ take you anywhere, but…” He trailed off. “Hazel, you’ve never been in the Labyrinth. I have. It’s disorienting. Distance is meaningless.  _ Time _ is meaningless. You can enter the maze in New York, walk ten feet and exit the maze in LA. And maybe it felt like a few seconds to you, but it was an hour or five hours. No, it’s too dangerous. Besides,” he glanced up at the statue, “the passages are way too small for the Athena Parthenos. There’s no chance you could take it down there.”

“Agreed,” Alex said. “I was only down there for a short time, but it was creepy enough for me to understand that it should be avoided.”

“You’re right,” Hazel said glumly. “Never mind.”

Reyna cast her eyes around the group. “Other ideas?”

“I could go,” Frank offered, not sounding very happy about it. “If I’m a praetor, I should go. Maybe we could rig some sort of sled, or—”

“No, Frank Zhang.” Reyna gave him a weary smile. “I hope we will work side by side in the future, but for now your place is with the crew of this ship. You are one of the seven of the prophecy.”

“Magnus and I aren’t,” Alex said. “We can help.”

Reyna gave them a sad smile. “Thank you, but I cannot accept your help. You say you are not part of the Seven, but from where I’m standing—or rather sitting—you are. Seven demigods. Jason, Piper, Leo, Frank, Hazel, Magnus, and Alex. You cannot guarantee that Percy or Annabeth will ever escape Tartarus, nor can you guarantee they will meet you in Athens. I’m afraid you are part of this.”

“But I’m not,” Nico said. “I’ll go with Reyna,” he said. “I can transport the statue with shadow-travel.” He stared at the statue with an odd look on his face. “I’ll make short jumps—a few hundred miles each time. It’s true, after each jump I won’t be in any shape to fend off monsters. I’ll need Reyna to defend me and the statue.”

Reyna had an excellent poker face. She studied the group, scanning their faces, but betraying none of her own thoughts. “Any objections?”

No one spoke.

Bianca very dearly wanted to object, but she knew this was how it had to be. Nico had told her about the journey though and how he had almost died.

“Very well,” Reyna said. “I see no better option. But there will be many monster attacks. I would feel better taking a third person. That’s the optimal number for a quest.”

“Coach Hedge,” Frank blurted.

“What?” Leo asked.

“The coach is the best choice,” Frank said. “The only choice. He’s a good fighter. He’s a certified protector. He’ll get the job done.”

“A faun,” Reyna said.

“Satyr!” barked the coach. “And, yeah, I’ll go. Besides, when you get to Camp Half-Blood, you’ll need somebody with connections and diplomatic skills to keep the Greeks from attacking you. Just let me go make a call—er, I mean, get my baseball bat.”

He got up and shot Frank an unspoken message that Bianca couldn’t quite read. Despite the fact that he’d just been volunteered for a likely suicide mission, the coach looked grateful. He jogged off towards the ship’s ladder, tapping his hooves together like an excited kid.

Nico rose. “I should go, too, and rest before the first passage. We’ll meet at the statue at sunset.”

“Wait a minute,” Bianca said. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you aren’t,” Nico said, glaring at her. “You and Allegra are getting back in that chariot and going back to Camp where it’s… well, not safe, but safer than what I’ll be doing.”

“Not happening,” Bianca said. “If you think I’m going to let my baby brother go on this suicide mission alone—”

“I’m  _ not _ your baby brother,” Nico said pointedly. “I’m older than you now.”

Bianca rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m not letting my physically older brother go on this suicide mission alone knowing full well how badly this could affect him.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not leaving unless it’s with you, so either let me come or I’ll make you let me come.”

Nico gritted his teeth. “Fine. But  _ I’m _ doing most of the work. I’m not going to let you…” he trailed off, but he didn’t need to say what he was talking about. Bianca knew. He wasn’t going to let her fade away into shadows. That was fine, but she wasn’t going to let him fade away either.

Nico stormed off to his cabin.

Hazel passed her hand over the ground. Diamonds broke the surface—a glittering milky way of stones. “We’re at another crossroads. The Athena Parthenos goes west. The  _ Argo II _ goes east. I hope we chose correctly.”

“I have a question,” Alex said, speaking up for the first time since Reyna said Percy and Annabeth no longer were part of the Seven. “If Gaea needs the blood of two demigods to wake, then why are we heading to Athens if it’s what Gaea wants? She can’t sacrifice anyone if we don’t go.”

“He’s right,” Leo said. “That’s walking right into a trap.”

“She,” Alex corrected. “I’m female now.”

“She’s right,” Leo said.

Jason looked grim. “It’s definitely a trap, but if we don’t go, we might lose our best and only chance to stop her from waking. Athens is where the battle will be. We can’t avoid it. Besides, Gaea could just capture us elsewhere or spill the blood of some other demigods.”

Allegra looked disgruntled. “Well, that’s a nice thought.”

“Well!” Piper sheathed her blade and patted her cornucopia. “Good picnic. Who wants dessert?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Alex and Magnus have become part of the Seven... dun dun dun!
> 
> Ahhhh, two more chapters left! One more day of posting!


	82. Leo is Given Dating Advice (Bianca LXXXII)

AT SUNSET, BIANCA AND NICO tied ropes around the pedestal of the Athena Parthenos.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” Nico said.

Bianca shrugged. “It’s okay, Nico. I… well, I pushed myself onto this.”

“I just know what effect this had on me,” Nico said. “I don’t want you to go through that.”

“I’m a big girl, Nico.”

Nico’s lips twitched. “I know.”

Bianca lowered her voice. “I know you wanted to ask more about Will. I’m guessing no one here knows about him?”

Nico sighed. “We told them about the time travel thing. Something happened and we had to. But, no, I didn’t say he came back. I didn’t tell anyone we were dating. Except Jason, but that was different. I want to tell Hazel first. She’s my sister. It should be her who finds out first. But I want to wait until after the war. I tried to get her to understand a lot more social changes than I did before, but I still think I should take the time to talk with her. Not rush it.”

“That’s fair,” Bianca agreed.

“He doesn’t hate me, does he?”

“He could never hate you,” Bianca said. “He’s just worried about you.” She gave her brother a smile. “It’s cute. You better get back together soon. I’ve got money on it happening after the war ends. The Stolls started a betting pool.”

“Of course they did,” Nico sighed.

“You know, whatever it is you two have to work out, I don’t think it’s as big a deal as you make it out to be,” Bianca said. “Because it’s very clear you love each other. Anyone with eyes can see that. Even people without eyes can see it.”

“I was going mad,” Nico said quietly. “Tartarus… it wasn’t good. I was hearing these voices and I started talking to the troglodytes. I wanted to go back to Tartarus and rescue a friend. Will told me to talk to Mr. D first and figure out what was real. He told me that once I figured that out—if the voices were real—we’d go to Tartarus together and rescue my friend. And now, I’ve gone _back_ to Tartarus. Without Will.”

Bianca had to prevent herself from shaking some sense into her brother. “Like I said, Nico. You are blowing this out of proportion. You couldn’t help it. You had to go there alone. Okay, yes, you could have helped it. I would have preferred if you didn’t go, but we can’t always get what we want. I think Will cares more about whether or not you’re okay more than he does about anything else.”

“Maybe.” Nico tied the ends of the ropes together, making a halter. He took up the slack on his ropes. He slipped them over his shoulders as if the Athena Parthenos were a giant backpack.

Bianca followed suit.

A minute later, Reyna and Coach Hedge arrived in full armour with packs over their shoulders. Reyna looked grim and ready for combat. Coach Hedge grinned like he was expecting a surprise party.

“Good luck,” Allegra said.

Bianca flashed her a smile. “Good luck to you. I’m sorry you’re going back alone.”

Allegra waved her off. “No worries. I knew you weren’t coming back with me when I offered to take you here.”

“Magnus, Alex,” Nico said. “I left some things in Magnus’s room. Look at those when you get a chance.”

“Got it,” Magnus said.

“Leo,” Nico said, looking at him. “Do me a favor. In case I never see you again, don’t call anyone _mamacita,_ okay?”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “In case we never see each other again? Wow, Nico. I’m flattered, but I don’t think I’m your type.”

Nico glared at him. “Not like _that,_ Valdez. Just… word of advice for any possible girlfriends.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?”

“Is that a Stygian iron sword cutting you in half I hear?”

“Enough,” Reyna said. She nodded at Frank. “I will see you when we both return from our quests.”

There was an unspoken _if._

“You’ll succeed,” Frank said.

Coach Hedge shouldered his baseball bat. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m going to get to camp and see my baby! Uh, I mean I’m going to get this baby to camp!” He patted the leg of the Athena Parthenos.

“All right,” said Nico. “Grab the ropes, please. Here we go.”

Reyna and Hedge took hold. Bianca looked at Nico.

“Just focus on staying with me,” Nico told her. “It’ll take some of the burden off me, but it won’t focus it solely on you.”

Bianca nodded. She took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

The air darkened. And then they were falling into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's like the second time I did this, but someone said something like "what if Nico told Leo not to call anyone mamacita". And I put that here now.
> 
> Anyway, I was going to actually have a Nico chapter right after the Jason chapters with Cupid that was Nico telling Hazel he'd gay and about Will and everything. I couldn't get it quite the way I wanted it and I ended up deciding to leave that for the end of Blood of Olympus when the war is over and neither of them are under as much stress as they are on the Argo. I was much happier with how that version turned out.


	83. We Are Asked to Prevent Jason from Getting Stabbed... Again (Magnus LXXXIII)

AFTER THE TWO CHILDREN OF HADES shadow traveled the Athena Parthenos, Reyna, and Coach hedge away, Magnus felt all the bravado he was putting up in front of the intimidating Roman praetor leave his body.

Reyna’s words still echoed in his head.

_ You cannot guarantee that Percy or Annabeth will ever escape Tartarus, nor can you guarantee they will meet you in Athens. I’m afraid you are part of this. _

He didn’t mind being a part of this for his cousin. He would fight any battle if it meant making things even slightly easier on Annabeth. But he didn’t want to be taking her spot. He didn’t want to be part of the Seven.

Alex squeezed his hand. “You okay?”

“Not really,” Magnus muttered.

Allegra Nakamura climbed into the flying chariot. “I have to get back to Camp,” she said. “I’ll see you guys there when you get back. All of you.” With that, she snapped the reins and the pegasi took off into the evening sky.

“We should check out the stuff Nico left,” Magnus muttered to Alex.

Alex nodded. Together, they headed down to Magnus’s cabin.

On top of Magnus’s bed was a small notebook. Magnus flipped it open to the first page.

_ Nico’s Guide to the Previous  _ Argo II _ Quest _

Alex snorted. “He left us directions on what to do. That’s helpful.” She took the notebook from Magnus and flipped through the pages.

“Ithaca,” she muttered. “Ghosts and Jason almost dies from a stab in the back. Please prevent this, thanks. Get physicians cure. Go to Delos and ask Apollo how to make it.” She looked up. “Pretty good.”

Magnus shrugged. “I guess.”

“We knew they weren’t coming back,” Alex said. “I tried to stop them. Maybe I should have tried harder.”

“No,” Magnus sighed. “We both know it had to be them. They would never condemn anyone else to take the job. I just wish… I don’t want to be one of the Seven. Because that means that my cousin isn’t going to be back for the battle. Which means in thirteen days, she most likely will still be in Tartarus or wandering around the Labyrinth. I didn’t want that for her. Or Percy. This whole thing was supposed to be about making things better. How is that better?”

“It’s not,” Alex said, sitting down on the bed. “It’s awful. It’s unfair. It’s called being a hero. And being a hero sucks sometimes.” She let out a breath. “But… whatever happens, we’re going to find them. If the war ends and they aren’t back yet, we’ll go looking for them. We have until mid-January before we really have to be doing anything, right? Almost six months of down time. We’ll find a way.”

“I hope so,” Magnus said. “I really do.”

* * *

The  _ Argo II _ sailed after nightfall.

They veered southwest until they reached the coast, then splashed down in the Ionian Sea. It would have been a shorter trip to Athens over land, but after the crew’s experience with mountain spirits in Italy, they’d decided not to fly over Gaea’s territory any more than they had to. They would sail around the Greek mainland, following the routes that Greek heroes had taken in the ancient times.

Fourteen days to reach Athens. Then one way or another, the war would be decided.

Over in the bow, Leo whistled happily as he tinkered with Festus’s mechanical brain, muttering something about a crystal and an astrolabe. Amidships, Piper and Hazel practised their swordplay, gold and bronze blades ringing in the night. Jason and Frank stood at the helm, talking in low tones—maybe telling stories of the legion or sharing thoughts on being praetor.

Magnus and Alex stood together at the rails.

“For Percy and Annabeth,” Alex said. She punched a hand out between the two of them like she was getting ready for a team cheer.

Magnus couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face at the motion. He put his own fist next to Alex’s. “For Percy and Annabeth,” he repeated.

“Go team!” Alex added.

Magnus snorted. “Oh my God.”

“One of these days the actual God is going to come down here to tell this unsuspecting Norse demigod that he needs to stop using his name in vain,” Alex said.

Magnus rolled his eyes. “I can say whatever the Hel I want.”

Alex draped an arm around Magnus’s shoulders and turned to look out over the railing. “I know you can. You frequently do just that.”

As they sailed further from the coast, the sky darkened and more stars came out.

Magnus remembered what Bob the Titan had said to the sun when they left the House of Hades. He looked up at the stars.

“Hello,” he whispered. “Hello, stars. Percy and Annabeth say hello.”

The  _ Argo II _ sailed into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And done!
> 
> I just wanted to finish posting these last two chapters now and then I'll be posting for BoO tonight!


End file.
